Professor Potter
by Bookworm1027
Summary: AU. Seven years after DH. Everything is the same, except that Harry never got back with Ginny, whom he still loves. When he gets a new job to support his god-son, the past seems to collid on him. Who is Malcom Sinlaur, and why does he make Harry uneasy?
1. Meetings with McGonagall

Meetings With McGonagall

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was nervous.

His legs-still reasonably long and lanky- were bouncing up and down against the wooden floor, the sole of his shoes squeaking loudly with every rub of the leather. He could feel the fabric of his black trousers sliding back and forth with each anxious hop of his foot. His right hand was sitting hand was sitting on the desk across from him, his fingers dancing a rapid staccato rhythm on the deep cherry wood. He left was clenching a handful of his thick wool robes; the dark green bring out a shinning emerald in his eyes. His mother's eyes, as he'd always been told.

Harry had never felt comfortable in the headmaster's office.

To distract himself from the nerves that threatened to eat at him, clawing at the insides of his throat, like a fire that burned through his limbs...he glanced around the room, his forest gaze lingering on the things that hadn't always lived here.

Through most of Harry's youth, when Albus Dumbledore had reigned of headmaster, this office had seemed majestic-larger than life itself. The walls had been lined with books that mingled among the former headmasters' portraits. (Harry could here them now, muttering obviously about his presence, but he ignored them. After twenty-four years of unfortunate fame, Harry had gotten used to muttering.)The ash filled bird perch that had once sat in the corner, a large fiery-red phoenix resting omiounously above it, no longer sat in the corner of the room. No more were magical instruments lining the desk, each one of every shape and size, just challenging to be touched. But only the traditional portraits sat around him now. To Harry's eyes, this new room which lacked color and brightness seemed somewhat cold-for use of efficiency.

But the biggest change to the headmaster's office was the portrait hanging high over the dark cherry wood desk; larger than any other in this room. It was blank at the moment, the intricate golden frame decorating nothing but an seeming endless black hole.

It was normally a portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

As shameful as it was, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly relived that his old headmaster was off visiting another of his frames now. He was nervous as it was, and philosophical chats with Dumbledore never seemed to help lighten his mood much.

Even though the picture now showed nothing more than enchanted night, Harry still felt as though he was being watched intently by a pair of piercing blue eyes, their gaze peering over a pair of half-moon spectacles. The eyes were so familiar Harry could have seemed them yesterday. They were all knowing, and yet had the signs of young curiosity. Wise and inquisitive. Intimidating and kind. Cold and warm. Stone and water.

Harry closed his own eyes, fighting against the view in his mind. Events of his past always seemed to sneak up on him at the worst of times. He should have expected the memories to come flooding back at him when he was in this room, even changed as it was.

Harry had spent a surprising amount of time in the headmasters office during his schooling at Hogwarts. He had gotten into a fair amount of trouble during his years, but nothing compared to several infamous groups that still had detentions yet to serve. Only one-or possible two-of Harry's visits to this office were related to actual misbehavior. He could still remember every meeting he had ever had with Dumbledore.

His first year...the sorcerers stone...Professor Quirrel...the power of his scar...

The forth year...Cedric Diggory's murder...Voldemorts return...

Third year...Series Black...his godfather...time-traveling...

Sixth year...all the lessons...the pensive...Dumbledore sacrifice...Snape's lie...

Fifth year...order of the phoenix...department of mysteries...Sirius's death...the prophecy...

Second year...the Chamber of Secrets...Dobby's sock...Tom Riddle...saving his best friend's sister...

Harry's eyes bolted open.

He had been purposely avoiding thing her name for so long. He shouldn't have slipped his concentration.

Harry Potter had lost a lot of people in his life; everyone who had ever tried to guide him or be a parent, Teddy's parents, so many friends, over half the order, and _her_.

Ginny Weasly.

The only girl he'd ever loved.

The horribly ironic part, however, was that she was still alive and well.

Harry could go see her whenever he wanted. He could wrap his arms around her, holding her supple body close to his lanky form. He could kiss her with all of the adoration he had bottled up for so long. He could tell her how much he had loved her-would_ always _love her.

But he wasn't good enough for her.

Ginny was the perfect girl-or woman, as that would be the more appropriate term. She was unearthly beautiful, but her charms extended even beyond that. She was strong willed and tough after growing up with so many brothers. She possessed a quick wit and even more rapid draw of the wand. Harry could still clearly remember the twin's complaints of her infamous bat-boogey hex. Harry couldn't help but grin at the thought.

Harry was sure that someone worthy had managed to catch Ginny's attention by now. There was a time, back years ago, when Harry might have had the chance to be that someone. But that time was gone now, and other men were not blind to the wonder Ginny was. She had found her someone by now, he was probably kind and intelligent, who could give her a normal life.

And that's the one thin Harry could never give her.

Harry wasn't normal. Even among wizards, Harry had been a freak since the age of one. There was no one in the world who understood Harry, who he could speak to and confide in. No one to empathize with his pain; even his two best friends-Hermione and Ronald Weasley, who were the closet thing to sibling Harry had ever know (seeing as he didn't particularly like to think of Dudley Dursley that way)-could never seem to understand exactly how much of the world Harry felt was placed on his shoulders.

Harry worried constantly that this great responsibility he placed upon himself would affect the other people in his life; his god-son, in particular. And his-god son was the entire purpose behind this trip. Harry wanted to be a good father-a great father. But he didn't know where to turn for advice and example. Certainly not his uncle Vernon, as he wasn't fond of the thought of locking Teddy in a broom cupboard. Harry had never really known his real father, and Series always appeared more of a friend than guardian. Dumbledore-god rest his soul-kept to many secrets for Harry's liking. Harry wished he had time to learn this slowly, like other fathers, but he didn't have time where Teddy was concerned.

Over the past seven years, while Harry had been off at training and then trying to save the rest of the magical world, Mrs. and Mr. Tonks had been watching Teddy. They had been doing an excellent job with their grandson, of course, and Harry made it a point to visit as often as possible, but it didn't change the fact that Harry was neglecting his god-son. And now, just this past month, Mrs. Tonks had died. Her husband tried to pull through, but after the loss her his daughter combined with his wife, he too lost the spirit to move on. To fight back death. Taking care of Teddy sat fully on Harry's shoulders now.

He had helped his young god-son moved past the death of his grandparents, and thankfully his young age helped him to snap back quickly. He was living with Harry at the his small London flat at the moment, but it wasn't enough room for them both. Now, because of Harry's meeting, he was spending time with Hermione and Ron's two children.

Harry knew that as soon as he would be taking Teddy permanently, he would have to get a new job. Teddy needed a stable environment, where his guardian wouldn't be running off to get killed every day. Being an auror would simply have to be off Harry's prioity list. So when this job had opened up, Harry looked in to it immediately.

Which was why he was here. For a new start. For both he and Teddy.

From beside Harry, breaking the silence in the lonely room. The paintings around Harry all quieted instantly, before the rapid mumbling picked back up again at a furious pace. Harry jolted up from his chair, complete startled. His legs-which he had just managed to still from quaking-had begun shaking again. He could hear the low sound of the stone gargoyle curling upwards, ready to face the new headmaster towards the grand entrance door.

Or rather, _headmistress_.

She entered through the doorway with all of the prowl and power she always possessed. Her shoulders were pulled back in rigid posture, perfectly straight lines. Long crimson robes feel all the way down to the floor, barely showing the brown boots beneath it. Her long black hair was pulled back into it's classic tight bun, though large streaks of gray now tainted the color. Her cold, somewhat beady eyes were shielded by a pair of square frames. Her face still held all of the coldness as in Harry's youth, yet it was now slightly aged. Circles and wrinkles that had not existed before taking over once smooth skin. Her walk towards him, silent and gentle, had a aura of feline to it-a likely trait. Harry felt the old instinct to immediately shrink back at the sight of this woman approaching.

But Harry had often heard that Minerva McGonagall could do that to almost anyone.

Harry managed to place a half panicked smile on his face and walked out towards his old transfiguration teacher. He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were nervous how this simple gesture would be taken.

Headmistress McGonagall raised an eye brow at Harry's nervous antics but otherwise said nothing.

"Mr. Potter," she greeted quietly, using the tone of respect that Harry had not bee expecting. He still thought of McGonagall as his teacher, and was mentally preparing to take notes. It was only since Harry's seventh year that she had begun speaking to him as an equal, and not a pupil. It still seemed unsettling.

"Headmistress," he greeted, pulling his hand away.

She smirked slightly at the title. She nodded her head towards the desk, gesturing with a small sweep of a hand that they sit. Harry waited until she had appeared to be comfortable before sinking fully back down into the seat again.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Potter?" the headmistress questioned politely.

Harry gladly accepted. Anything to keep his hands from shaking would be gladly accepted. McGonagall pulled out her wand, a thin pine, the light color matching her pale skin, and used a quick flick of her wrist to conjure a silver tea tray, all fixings included. The tray hovered in air for a moment, before finally setting quietly on the desk in front of them. She proceeded to pour them both a cup, taking more time than Harry would have though she would have. McGonagall was nothing if not efficient.

After Harry and taken two sugar cubes and taken a small sip of the hot steaming liquid, letting the bitter taste run down his though, warming him from the inside, she spoke up.

"Potter," she began, "Since you requested this meeting, polite society would normally dictate you begin the topic," Harry opened his mouth the begin his poorly memorized speech, but one flash of her cold eyes and he promptly shut his jaw. "But," she continued, "If you're here for the reason I suspect you are, I have few things to state first."

Harry nodded slowly, his nerves resurfacing immediately.

"First off, Mr. Potter-or Harry, if you prefer-_if_ I hire you, I will not hire you reputation. I am not hiring the _boy who lived_, nor will I be bringing in the vanquisher of he-who-shall-not-be-named. We are both perfectly aware of you history, Harry." She gave him a pointed look over her glasses that vaguely reminded Harry of another teacher. "I was, after all, present for the...aftermath of most of your more astonishing adventures." Harry felt the blush begin to creep up into his face, but pushed it down again. He must remain professional.

"And _if_ I hire you, Harry, I will not be enrolling you to tell stories to my students. You will teaching them." Another glare. "Understood?"

Harry nodded mutely.

McGonagall gave a great sigh and then her posture relaxed, her back leaning backwards to be slightly more cushioned in the overstuffed chair behind her. "Good. And I want you to know, Harry, that I have every intention of hiring you for the position." She shot him a long, questioning look. "You _are_ interested in the teaching position, aren't you?"

Harry gave another silent nod. He wasn't when he was allowed to speak, and it didn't seem as though McGonagall was done quite yet.

"Here is the point of the matter, Harry. I _am_ hiring you. But I'm doing it because I know how talented you are. Your recent years as an auror have proven that your beyond capable, and perfect for the job. Plus, I already know of your...less authorized teaching experience as a boy."

The smirk and stare she gave Harry was knowing, and more than enough to remind him of D_umbledore's Army. _

"Not to mention," the headmistress went on, "Your countless letters of recommendation. Even forgetting good friends', such as Mrs. Weasley or Mr. Longbottom, your record is outstanding. As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Potter, you've already got the position."

Harry could of jumped ten feet or flow, broom or not. His heart felt so light it was like it was about to float out of his chest. His arms were shaking again, but no longer in anxiousness or nerves. He was ecstatic! He had Teddy would finally start having a normal life, and Harry couldn't have been happier. He wanted no more than to rush back to Ron's and pick him up; to go celebrate with everyone he knew.

But then, of course, reality came crashing back down.

"There is one thing, however, Mr. Potter, I would like to discuss." It did not escape Harry's notice that she used his sir name. His heart was drifting back down, setting in it's rightful, gloomy place.

"Yes, Headmistress?"

She shook her head once, sipping her tea neatly before moving forward with the conversation.

"Minerva, Harry." she corrected. "Is it true you have a god-son? Teddy Lupin?"

Harry wasn't sure where this conversation was headed. He couldn't fathom how having a family would prevent him from teaching. Hermione did it just fine. She simply came in the mornings by floor network and left each night the same way for dinner. She and Ron both worked the same way. They had a house-elf, Petal, to take care of the children while they were off working. Many wizarding family's did the same thing. That had been Harry's plan. He had Kreature-a much more lovable thing now a days-to help him.

Harry bobbed his head up and down, saying a quiet, "Yes."

"And how do you intend to raise him with a full time job?"

Harry told her of his plan.

McGonagall was nodding half way through his explanation. "Certainly not a _bad_ plan, Harry," she admitted once he had finished. "But there are a few things you failed to consider. For instance, what would happen if there is an emergency at night, and my best line of defense is at home? Or if Teddy got hurt and you were in the middle of a class? Mrs. Weasley had her spouse for help, and how do you have? A house elf?"

Harry had failed to think this through.

What was McGonagall asking from him? To chose between a job and his family?

He would choose Teddy always-she must have known this.

"So here is my suggestion, Harry." She leaned forward, the robes of her crimson gown scraping the dark woodened desk. "You, Teddy, and your house elf may all live in Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. He didn't understand. Family's of facility were not allowed to live here. It was an unspoken rule. "But Teddy isn't old enough-" Harry began again.

"I didn't mean to attend school, Harry." She interrupted him. "There is an abandoned room on the fifth floor that is plenty big enough to be separated for the two of you-three, counting the elf. You can live here and teach. Teddy can help Hagrid with his duties, or spend the days on the quittich fields, or in the library, or in the kitchen, or with unoccupied teachers. You will spend after dinner with him, and you both may choose where you would like to dine. As so long as he doesn't disrupt any going-ons during classes, everything should be fine. Don't you agree?"

"But this hasn't been done before," Harry needlessly pointed out. He couldn't let himself hope for such a perfect solution. Not when it was so unlikely.

Minerva McGonagall looked Harry straight in the eye, here expression so piercing it was almost frightening and told him, "Harry, you're the best and I need a teacher. You'll excuse me if I don't let your love for a little boy who needs _a full _time parent ruin my chances at getting you. If you are happy with this arrangement, then school starts in five days," she stood up, her tall form making ready to leave, an held her hand out for Harry to shake. "I'll be seeing you, then," a small smirk and a long pause. "Professor Potter."


	2. Help from Hermione

Help From Hermione

Chapter 2

"Blimy," Ron had said later that night, his feet propped up next to Harry's on the coffee table. Both of the men sat, fully relaxed, on an overstuffed paisley couch. The fire place across from them roared with each lick of red flames, emulating dry heat through the small London home. This house-the Weasley's-seemed to fit their family perfectly. The walls were painted a Gryffindor scarlet, Ron's idea, and every room seemed to warm you from the inside out. It was a comforting home, you could tell was full of laughter and love. Upstairs were four bedrooms, only three of which were being used, and a kitchen, dinning room, and parlor sat on the bottom floor. Contrary to the scorching heat of the fire place in front of them, both Harry and Ron held bottle's of butterbeer in their hands. The frosted edges of the glass chilled their fingers.

A few feet away from their recline positions on the loveseats three small children sat on the floor. Two of the children looked quite like their father; red hair and freckled faces. The toddler-barely a year old yet-was a spitting image of Harry's best friend. The young girl however, had her mother's wide brown eyes and small, button nose.

The third child looked like no one else in the room. His skin had was pale, almost to a sickly degree. He was tall for his age, his head already reaching up to above Harry's waist. His lanky form was considerably lanky, though his eight year old stomach had yet to remove a small amount of baby fat. His eyes, always varying in color, where a dark blue in their natural state. His hair, at the moment, was his favorite shade of bright turquoise. Harry could see so much of Remus in Teddy. The way he would play with Hugo-how patient and calm Teddy was with him. How he would take in and observe every little detail about a room before stepping through the doorway. The kindness in his gaze. The goodness he found in people.

Not that Teddy Lupin hadn't gotten anything plenty of traits from his mother as well. Besides her fascinating talent of being a Metamorphmagus, the young man also possessed Nymphadora's ability of making people laugh and cause joy. And, almost unfortunately, he had developed her grace-or lack thereof.

At the moment, Ted was entertaining his younger cousins by changing his hair different colors at a rapid pace. As his turquoise locks suddenly shifted to a neon orange, both Rose and Hugo clapped joyously the laughter giving a high squeal of delight.

Harry turned his attention away from his godson and back to Ron as he heard his friend continue to speak. "Who would have thought that nine years ago when we-or well, you, I 'posse-were running the DA, you were actually training to be a dammed _teacher_."

"You don't think I'll do well?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron's bad language. He felt Ron was chastised enough for it by Hermione.

Ron waved his hand dismissively in front of them. "Nah. You'll do fine." He took a long sip of his butterbeer and Harry did the same. Harry felt the slide of the cold liquid down his throat; that familiar frosty feeling erupting as the taste settled in his stomach.

"Harry?" a small voice called from beneath him as Harry felt a sharp tug on his sleeve. Harry looked in front of him to see a pair of deep blue eyes staring up at him, accomplice by an angelic face and white-blonde hair. Harry placed his drink of the inn table next to him and leaned forward, picking his godson up and placing him on his lap.

"Yeah, Teds?" He questioned lightly.

The small, innocent seeming boy smiled at his Uncle Ron before replying nervously. "Are we going to...live at Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Would that be a bad thing?"

Teddy pondered this for a moment, seeming deep in thought. "No," he said finally. "But Grandpa said I couldn't go until I was older?"

"Well," Harry answered his godson. "You can't go there for _schooling_ until you're older. Right now, we're just going to live there."

"Why?"

"So, I can't teach."

"Teach _me_?"

"No. Teach students."

"What students? Do they live there too? Will I live with them, or with you?"

Ron laughed then, the small parlor filled with his exuberant chuckles. Both Rose and Hugo saw their father's usual exuberance and longed to be part of it. They rushed over, Rose before her brother. Ron reached out to ruffle their air lovingly, though he spoke to Teddy. "You're quite inquisitive, aren't you?" he asked, though this had been pointed out many times since Teddy first learn how to speak.

Teddy grinned proudly.

Suddenly, shaking the house frame, a loud boom echoed around them. No one in the room seemed fearful of the sound. Contrarily, in fact, both small Weasley's looked ecstatic.

Ron, grinning broadly down at his two children, playfully swatted their rumps and told them, "She'll be along in a minute. Go wash up for dinner-Petals is making chicken and ham pie." Then, looking towards Harry and his godson, and asking, using the type of charm only Ron can truly manage, "You two staying or what?"

Harry half-laughed, half-shrugged at the at the invitation, which Ron took as agreement. Harry looked down at Ted, motioning with a jerk of his chin to go follow his cousins and to go wash up. Teddy, always being such a well behaved boy, ran off eagerly, trying to please his favorite relative.

Teddy was gone less than thirty seconds before a loud "crack" rang in Harry's ears, and a woman appeared in the middle of the parlor. Her hair was a dark brown and fuzzy, seeming as though it hadn't been brushed very thoroughly earlier that morning. She wore a long robe of blue, the cut of a feminine blouse peaking out from underneath. In her arms she held a thick roll of parchment close to her body, hugged between two large books. A shoulder bag had been slung around her, looking stuffed to the seams.

Ron had stood as soon as his wife apparited and quickly enveloped her in a tight embrace, tossing Harry the materials from her arms. Harry laughed as Ron picked her up, and Hermione gave a shrill of excitement. Then, as husband swallowed his wife half-hearted objections by capturing her lips in a smoldering kiss, Harry had to look away.

Though both of Harry's best friends had been together since their sixth year of Hogwarts, sometimes Harry still disliked being in both their company at once. It was daunting and dishearten to feel like the constant third wheel, even when he could clearly see the love in Ron and Hermione's gaze.

The lovers' embrace, per usual, was cut off by the shrieks and scampers of their children. Rose, with her longer and stronger legs, reached her mother long before Hugo did. Hermione picked up her son, leaning down so her daughter could give a wet kiss to her cheek.

Teddy had made his war to Harry's side, sitting on the couch next to the lightning scared man. They both sat silently as they watched the family before them. Both Potter and Lupin felt out of place among all of the Weasley's-as if they were intruding on a private family moment.

After Hermione had been sufficiently welcomed home, she grinned and turned to one of her closest friends. " Hey, Harry."

He grinned too, standing to hug her. "Hullo." Then, looking down at her purchases, he asked, "Do a bit of shopping?"

She nodded and removed her shoulder bag, slipping her wand out of her robe pocket and pointed it the offending materials. She muttered, "Scourgify," and watched with satisfaction as her the offending materials and bag formed a neat pile on the coffee table. "The school year starts in less than a week, and Diagon Ally gets crowded if I wait too much longer," she told Harry while smoothing out Hugo's mop of red hair. "I just needed some parchment, a new quill, a new set of robes. You know, drabbles and such." Then, with a new sort of excitement lighting in her eyes, she asked him, "Speaking of school, how did the interview go?"

Harry feigned disappointment and shrugged, looking towards the kitchen. "Alright, I supposed." He caught Ron's eye and they spoke in a language in which only years of friendship could have created. Ron hide a smirk as he silently began to usher the children into the dinning. Harry followed them, stepping into a aroma filled the middle of the large chamber sat a sat a eight person wooden table, the color lighter than pine. On the table sat six white plates, all filled with a delicious smelling ham and chicken pie on each. Three of the proportions were surmounting smaller than the others, and had only glasses of water in front of them, as opposed the wine that sat in front of the others.

"Alright?" Hermione was asking as she sat Hugo down in his high chair. "What do you mean?"

Harry sat down between Ron, who was at the head of the table, and Teddy, who was talking avidly with Rose. "No one got hurt," Harry told her, appearing to be hedging around the answer. Then, trying to make a sly attempt to change to subject, inquired "Where is Petals?" Normally, around the Weasley home, a small, unusually pink house-elf could be spotted cleaning and cooking. She was a incredibly happy creature, whom you couldn't help but adore on sight. She had been born and, until she was old enough to work, raised at Hogwarts in the kitchens. She had left when she reached maturity, looking for her own employment. But, like Harry's old elf friends, Petals was a little...odd, compared to the rest of her work mates. Petals didn't object freedom-in fact, she _embraced_ it. Son when she stumbled across new mother Hermione Weasley, who was more than willing to give her pay and work day off and holiday, it was the perfect match.

Hermione was dealing with the toddler, as her refused to calmly go into his eat, so Ron took the liberty of answering as he began shoving large bits of meat onto his fork. "Oddball's been spending most of her time in that attic as of late. I 'posse since she's already cleaning the rest of the dump she might as well finish it up, eh?"

Hermione frowned at her husband as she pulled out her wand, pointing it in mock threat at the screaming boy. He stopped immediately the blood rushing to his angry face. With a triumphed humph, she sat down beside Ron and across from Harry. "So," she said, picking up the conversation again, "How about the meeting with McGonagall this morning?"

"I had one."

Hermione frowned at Harry and rolled her eyes, cutting the food on her plate with a renewed vigor. "Did you get the position?" she asked flatly.

Harry would not look up from his plate. "She said that...the meeting didn't go quite as planned."

Hermione looked shocked and furious. "What!" She gasped, her silverware clanging against the side of her plate as she dropped it. 'What do you mean? She said...McGonagall-_Minerva McGonagall_-our old teacher, said _no?" _She was creeping past angry and headed towards livid. She smacked the table, all of her children, Harry and Teddy jumping from the boom that resonating from her fist. Ron, however, was so engrossed in his food that he managed to completely ignore her outburst. Hermione continued onwards. "I wrote a letter of recommendation! It was fourteen pages long and organized alphabetically! I even included other references _in_ my reference! And you're _Harry Potter!_ For God's sake! Even forgetting the "boy-who-lived" bit, what you've done is still incredibly impressive. You're perfect for the job! And she just said 'No'? Is she mad? Should I go speak with her? ID she read page eight where I brought up the DA and your-"

Harry had decided that he had been amused enough by Hermione's wrath. He interrupted her rant. "I got the job." He said dryly.

"And not even _mentioning_ the fact that you worked seven years as one of the most highly respected Aurors-"she stopped, her jaw dropping wide. She blinked slowly, once, twice.

"What?"

"I got the job," he repeated in a dull sounding manner.

"But you said-"

"It didn't go as expected." He slowly chewed a piece of ham, tasting the honey coated spicy on his tongue. He hummed lightly in approval before moving forward. "I'm now going to live at Hogwarts, rather than Flooing in."

Hermione processed this information slowly an then grinned, her facing glowing with happiness. "I knew you would!" she exclaimed. And then, with a mischievous twinkle in her gaze, "And I'm glad for you, even if you were such a prat telling me about it."

Harry laughed, watching as Ron smirked through a mouthful of food. "Thank you, Hermione."

And then, the clever witch shooting Harry a hesitant glance. "But your...living there?" she asked. "What about..." a subtle nod in Teddy's direction.

Teddy, his voice filled with optimism and brightness, spoke up now. "I'm going to live there too," he told his aunt, smiling excitedly.

Hermione forced a smile on her face, though there was obvious worry in her eyes. "Are you?" she asked the boy, though her question was direct to Harry. He gave a nod.

"Harry, I, and Kreature," Teddy told her, nodding seriously. "I can't do any sort of magic yet, but I can still go there. Grandma once told me there was a really big library. I'll spend all day reading."

Hermione nodded and made small talk with her practically-nephew for a few moments until Teddy once again became absorbed in conversation with his cousin, telling her everything he knew about Hogwarts.

Hermione turned to Harry ad whispered lowly, trying to be unheard by the chatting purple-hair boy next to her. "He's going to live at Hogwarts? Does McGonagall know about this?"

Harry nodded and grinned. "It was her idea."

Hermione opened to her mouth to say something, but closed it before any sound could be heard. She did this often when she wanted to butt into others' business, but was trying to be delicate about how she phrased things.

"What is it 'Mione?" Ron asked, taking a long swallow of red wine.

"I'm just," she glanced at Harry nervously. "Are you _sure_ it's such a good idea for _all_ of you to live at Hogwarts?"

Harry knew at once what she was concerned about. Teddy, although patient and incredibly insightful for such a young man, was still an eight year old boy. She was worried about how he would live there-if he would end up being disruptive, or bored, or getting into trouble. Harry wasn't overly worried about this himself. If Hogwarts seemed half as large as it had on Harry's first day there as it did to Teddy, he could spend all day simply roaming the halls.

"He'll be perfectly fine, Hermione." Harry told her, still chuckling.

Once in her life, Hermione might have persisted to pester and prod at the situation until Harry gave in-or done something herself, if that hadn't worked. But now she had come to realize, through her own motherhood, that people didn't particularly like it when you interfered with how they raised their children. And though Harry and Ted were not united by blood, he was as much his father as Ron was Hugo's.

She took a deep breath. "Alright, Harry," she said seriously, letting the subject drop. Both of her best friends couldn't help but laugh at her reluctant tone.

Then, always being the over productive, overworking, Hermione Granger that Harry had once saved from an ogre, she asked excitedly, "Have you thought about lesson plans yet?"

Both Hugo, Harry, and Ted couldn't help but laugh at Ron's deep, mouth full groan.


	3. Murmurings with Malfoy

Murmurings with Malfoy

Chapter 3

"Are you ready?" Harry asked his godson for the third time as they stood in the back room of a rough, somewhat dingy London pub. Harry could smell the cigar smoke in the air, mixing thickly with the scent of stale butterbeer. The taste seemed to swarm in his head, clouding his vision as it always used to when he had first entered the Leaky Cauldron. Harry could remember the feeling of his first trip here perfectly, as if Hagrid had just picked him up from the grungy island cottage and told him he was a wizard. Harry could recall his disbelief when his new giant (or half-giant, as he now knew) friend was telling him this shabby, musky tavern was "a famous place". It had taken some evidence to dismiss young Harry's incredulousness. It hadn't been until Harry was older, and able to appreciate the small pub correctly, that he could feel the welcoming spirit of the Leaky Cauldron.

Now, remembering those feelings of apprehension, Harry glanced down at his godson. Teddy was staring straight ahead, his eye-green this morning-were trained on the wall in front of him, though Harry wasn't sure how much he could actually see through his copper colored hair, which was hanging down in front of his eyes. He had insisted on those shades this morning because of matching robes he wore; they were a present from his Aunt Fleur, who said they made him look "quveit dasheeng". Now, in the present, Teddy pocked at the deep scarlet brick wall, tracing the ridges slowly with his index finger. His eyebrows were pulled together in deep concentration.

"We're going through a wall?" Teddy mused aloud, not even looking up at his guardian.

"Yep." Harry replied, smoothly pulling his wand out from his robe pocket. Harry didn't look nearly as colorful as his godson today, settling for his simple black robes and jeans and bland colored t-shirt underneath. Harry was noticed everywhere he went, but he was never one to wear bright colors, even as a youth. The last thing he needed was more attention. But Teddy, it seemed, never noticed when people looked at him. Teddy's bright demeanor wasn't maintained for attention, but rather because he liked himself that way-cheerful. Quiet, but cheerful. It rather reminded Harry of Tonks, and that thought always had Harry grinning.

"You ready?" Fourth time.

This time, the first out of four attempts, Teddy answered his godfather with a simple nod. Sighing contently, Harry raised his wand and, with a sharp flick of his wrist each time, he tapped the appropriate bricks. "Three up, two across," he could remember Hagrid once saying. Teddy's eyes grew wide with disbelief and shock as they watched the once solid wall spread apart, as if it were a delicate piece of fabric being ripped apart at the seams. Harry could barely hold back a chuckle at the sight of his godson's wonder.

Then, once the wall had been completely removed, Ted Lupin got his first taste of Diagon Alley.

It was almost exactly as it had always been. All the signs of the war seven years ago had almost completely disappeared; replaced with the Diagon Alley that should never had left in the first place. The streets were full of people who were hustling and bustling by, so many things filling his senses he could hardly keep track; flashes of bright and marvelous robes, the mindless and wondrous chatter of frivolous fun, the smells of owl cages and potions. All of the shops and other businesses were awkwardly shaped and colored, as though there were formed from a children's fairy tale.

"What do you think?" Harry asked with a wide grin, bending down to whisper in his grandson's ear.

"It's...it's..."Teddy seemed unable to form a proper sentence. The words looked like the stuck to his tongue and clogged his throat uncomfortably. "Brilliant," he finished at last.

Harry laughed loudly at Teddy's terminology. Perhaps he had been spending a bit too much time with Uncle Ron. Several people heard Harry's merry laugh and turned to look, their expression growing surprised in an instant. When he was young, Harry would have hid for a few moments, waiting until he was no longer scene. But now that he had matured, Harry Potter had come to realize that he was always going to be look at through life, and you couldn't hide from that. So, trudging along calmly, Harry pulled Teddy through the busy shopping district.

Witches and wizards seemed to part out of Harry's way as they saw who was coming towards them, and the usual whispers followed the strange pair. Harry grasped his godson's hand tightly, as to not lose him in the crowd. But, of course, Teddy was a little difficult to lose track of. Soon, enough, however, Teddy seemed determined to try.

He was whizzing away from Harry every time a store or shiny object caught his eye, which was almost every second. Harry continued to tell him that they had a list to follow, but he was having a hard time not laughing at Teddy. He was just so bloody adorable.

Once, for instance, when they were exiting Scribbulus Ever-Changing Inks a small owl in the shop across the street had caught Teddy's attention and he bolted across the lot. In his wake, he managed to almost knock over a large cart carrying pumpkins, two middle aged witches, and an entire group of gangling boy's staring at the lasted model of the Fireshine-a good looking broom, Harry had to admit. He walked right up to the window of the pet shop and pointed to a slim, tawny owl and declared, "I want that one, Harry. For my birthday."

His godfather would only chuckle and lead him onwards.

And, though many of the magical items and shops all made Teddy shake with excitement, it was in Flourish and Blotts that little Lupin's eyes lit with pure innocent joy. Harry didn't even have time to tell him what he was looking for before Teddy had run off, shouting something about a book he wanted. Teddy not only loved books-he practically devoured them. Harry chuckled at his godson's excitement, but new that he couldn't track him down if he wanted to. His arms were currently full of his purchases and he would have felt a little too ridiculous if he had brought along Hermione's forever-stretching-handbag.

He tried to approach the shop keeper, who was currently being run ragged by the Hogwarts students that were just finishing up their shopping, but had a bit of trouble, so ended up just decided to wait. Harry was walking by a section of defensive spell books-he already had a large correction of his own, but perhaps a few more to put in the new classroom would be an idea-when he ran into a small, young body.

The young girl who he had ran into, looking barely old enough to be a first year, fell unceremoniously to the ground. All of the materials in both their arms fell as well, creating a giant heap on the old, dusty wood. "I'm so sorry," Harry apologized immediately, pointing his wand and uttered a charm to pick up the supplies beneath them. Once he had all of their belongings organized into several piles, sitting on a nearby table, he offered her his hand.

The small girl looked up as she began to Harry's hand, and her movements stopped. Her gaze grew wide with shock, seeming somewhat star-struck. The girl had long, pale-blonde hair that fell to her waist, her eyes were a dull, almost colorless blue-grey. Her skin was exceedingly pale, as if her she hadn't seen the sun in years. Her form was thin and nimble, built more for speed than anything else.

"Oh god," she murmured quietly, still on the floor. Her colorless face blushed bright red and her hand covered her mouth.

Harry gave a hesitant smile. "May I help you up?" he asked the girl, once again offering his hand. She paused a moment and then took his helping grasp, still blushing as he helped her from the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly once she stood, refusing to meet the-Boy-Who-Lived's face. She muttered something Harry didn't quite catch, but before he had a chance to question her, a voice rang out.

The voice was a little lower than the last time Harry had heard it, but the sound still caused the same reaction it always had in school. Harry's teeth gritted in irrational anger, his hands curling into tight fists. The breathing through his nose became sharper and shallower; he was practically huffing. Then, as if he couldn't get any angrier, Harry saw the man who matched his voice. His hair was slightly darker than before, but his skin was just as pale. His eyes still looked just like his father's-cold and frozen as steel.

Draco Malfoy had yet to see Harry. "Morgana!" He called again. Then his eyes shifted to Harry and the small girl in front of him, and all of Harry's anger disappeared. He had never seen a man look so ashamed before; so guilty. Malfoy's eyes were looking down as though afraid to met Harry's gaze. His robes, which used to be of the highest quality and price, were much simpler now. They weren't exactly torn and tattered, but the made Malfoy seem average. His hair wasn't combed back as neatly as it once was, and as he glanced at Harry there was no sneer plastered on his face. A first, that was.

Malfoy walked forward, towards Harry until they were less than two feet apart. The he placed his arm around the blushing girl beside him, and Harry noticed how alike they truly looked.

"Potter." A nod.

"Malfoy." They were being polite; civil.

An awkward silence passed between them. Malfoy gave Harry a look that clearly said, "Stay," and then bent down, turning to face the girl who had yet to uncover her mouth or take her eyes of Harry.

"Morgana," Malfoy called to her, gently grasping hold of her shoulders. She rotated in his direction, and asked, "Yes Draco?" in a quiet, serene tone.

Malfoy smiled at her-a real, genuine smile of love and adoration. Harry had never seen anything so kind on his face before, and it honestly staggered him. He gasped lowly. It was shocking to see Malfoy- someone who had tried to kill him on more than one occasion-demonstrating such adoration for the little girl. "I want you to go and finish your shopping list. I'm going to be right here, alight?"

She nodded and, after another fleeting glance at the "celebrity" before them, she ran gracelessly towards the back of the shop.

Malfoy stood then, and looked at Harry was though he waiting for him to speak.

Harry asked the first question that popped into his mind. "So is err...she your...?" He did the numbers in his head. There was no way the girl, Morgana, was Malfoy's child. Not unless he'd become a father in his third year...

Malfoy gave a slow chuckle. "No. She's my sister."

Harry blinked. "I wasn't aware you had a sister," he answered honestly, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Malfoy looked past Harry's right shoulder, and gave a small smile. "Most people aren't." He said with an air of easiness. "Morgan was only four when the war began. My parents..." he swallowed thickly and his expression darkened for a moment. Harry knew exactly why. Just after the war had ended, both Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban. Their son had been spared their fate on the account that he was a minor. Harry had been more than happy if he had never laid eyes on Draco Malfoy, and had been fine letting him go unpunished. Ron, however, through the biggest fit Harry had ever seen, including his niece and one year old nephew.

Harry opted to change the subject. The two men were civil at the moment, but Harry would rather not chance fate.

"How old is she?"

Another kind smile-not a smirk or scowl, but a true smile. It still left Harry dumbstruck. "She's just turned eleven last month. She's going to be starting her first year at Hogwarts." He sounded proud of someone other than himself.

Silence froze between them once more. Malfoy was the brave one this time, broaching conversation. "I've heard about your work at the ministry. How is that going?'

"It's over, actually. I've taken a teaching position."

Malfoy paled. "At Hogwarts?"

A single nod.

Malfoy's face suddenly changed drastically. Instead of being awkward and uncomfortable, his resolve seemed to strengthen; he was determined. He took a step closer to Harry. "Listen, Potter," he began in a tone that Harry recognized as much more familiar from their past. "I know this isn't the best place or time, but I've been hoping to see you. I know we have a lot of...history, Potter, but I've just...just grown up a bit since the last time..." he left the sentence unfinished, but Harry knew what he was going to say.

The last time I tried to kill you.

Malfoy continued onwards as if there had been no pause in the first place. "I've changed," he said bluntly. "I'm still the same prat from school in some ways, but it's just that now I...I know what is and isn't important in life. Family is, blood isn't." He looked away from Harry now, checking to see that no one was listening into their conversation. He leaned in closer. "I hate to ask you for a favor, Potter," Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "But I would just hope that you wouldn't let our old prejudices affect Morgana's studies?"

Harry gave a smile-a small, somewhat pitiful one, but it was all he could manage. He could remember all too well what an unfair, hateful teacher could do to such a young child. He would never someone else-not matter who they were related too. Harry, after all, was related to the Dursleys. One couldn't change their family.

"Of course not," Harry assured his old enemy. "I give you my word; I'll look out for your sister."

Malfoy's relaxation could easily be seen. His shoulders, once tense and tight now were now completely soft. He stepped away from Harry, and gave another odd smile. "Well," he said, his tone parting. "It was...nice, running into you, Potter. But Morgan and I have some shopping to do."

"Of course. Perhaps we could...get together sometime for a butterbeer or something?" Then, as an afterthought, "Ron could tag along if you like."

"Sure," a last new founded grin, and he was gone.

Harry stood straight for a moment, trying to process what had just occurred. Every fiber in his body was telling him not to trust Malfoy-that he had been tricked too many times to bother trusting a death eater. His years of auror experience, not to mention personal, were telling him to march directly into Minister Shacklebolt's office and pull out a favor on Malfoy, just because of old instincts.

But he didn't. He need to learn that the war was over, and sometimes life wasn't a conspiracy against Harry Potter.

Harry felt a sharp tug against his robes. He glanced down to see Teddy with his arms full of books. He was smiling brightly, looking up at Harry with his usual misty blue eyes and favorite turquoise hair. "I got everything we needed, Harry," he told his godfather. He nodded in the general direction Malfoy had retreated. "Who was that?"

"Just an old classmate."

"Is he your friend?"

Harry hesitated before answering, "I'm...I'm not sure yet."

Teddy, observant as ever, simply nodded once and remained quiet.

'So," Harry asked switching subjects. "Did you get some of the books I ask for, or are these all for you?"

Teddy blushed, but mumbled, "I already sent them to the counter. I picked out twelve. Is that enough?"

Harry laughed and playfully ruffled his godson's hair and suggested some ice cream.

Teddy nodded as he jumped up so excitedly he almost dropped all the books in his arms.


	4. Honorings at Hogwarts

Chapter 4

Honoring at Hogwarts

Harry fastened the synch to his cloak tightly, pulling both halves of the shimmering emerald silk together at the nape of his neck. He glanced down towards his feet, where the watery material pooled against the wooden floor. In front of him, in a tall medieval style mirror that was propped against a wall, Harry could see how he looked. The cloak matched his eyes perfectly—he had been told by Mrs. Weasley many-a-time that there is no way to better make a good impression than by showing off your eyes. Harry sincerely doubted this tactic; Gildory Lockhart, Harry's thickheaded ex-professor, hadn't had that much luck with it, after all. Never-the-less, the cloak was a gift from Ginny on Harry's last birthday and there was nothing that could give him more confidence.

And confidence was definitely something he needed right now.

"Harry!" Teddy called out loudly, his high-pitched tone echoing through his godfather eardrums painfully.

The-boy-who-lived looked away from the mirror and gazed around, taking a moment to admire his new home. The old classroom seemed to have been magically expanded, and several walls constructed to create rooms. Harry's bedchamber was slightly larger than Teddy's, although not by much. Both chambers were across from each other, and in the middle sat a large parlor and a bath off to the side in a separate room. The floors were made of a deep cherry wood, the ceiling arching high above your head. The parlor walls were white, a small couch, chair, coffee and inn tables making up most of the furniture. Teddy's chamber had a blue tint to it, green making up everything else. He had insisted upon choosing how to decorate it himself, and had spent hours shoving and pushing things around.

Harry's room, however, was very simple. Most of his places had always been like that—he often wondered if his lifestyle with the Dursleys hadn't formed this. Harry's room was gold and scarlet—most likely a joke from Headmistress McGonagall. His bed was large and roomy, and only a wardrobe sat in front of that. Stuck up on his walls, however, were rows and rows of picture. He, Ron, and Hermione had places in many of them, along with most of the Weasley family. Tonks and Lupin also had several; one where Tonks held a sleeping new born baby in her arms, rocking him back and forth as she cooed softly to it. And of course, the original picture of the four Mauraderers was present. Harry's favorite picture, though, was one he kept face fawn on top of his wardrobe.

He and Ginny in his sixth year, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, her back pressed to his chest as he leaned in to gently kiss her neck. Neither of them had been aware of Collin Creeveys snapping a picture of their embrace.

"Harry?"

Teddy was speaking o him again, at his bedroom door this time. Harry turned around to smile fondly at his godson, kneeling down to look him in the eye.

"Yes, Ted?"

Teddy pouted the, sticking his bottom lip out. He had turned his hair blonde and his eyes a kind, misty blue. He was no-doubt looking for sympathy. "Why can't I go to the feast?" He complained, putting on of his child-sized hands on Harry's shoulder.

Harry sighed heavily. They had already had this conversation many times. " You don't go to school here," he told him firmly, but gently. "I promise you can come to supper in the great hall any other night. But not now," Harry continued quickly as he saw Teddy's mouth open to protest. "Tonight is very important, and I want you to be able to experience for yourself one day, alright?"

Teddy was frowning, but he didn't argue. Harry smile at him and leaned in, placing a fatherly kiss to his forehead. "Good," he whispered.

Harry stood up to his full height, ruffled Teddy's hair and then walked out of the room, hearing the pitter-patter of his godson's feet behind him. "Kreature will be here soon," he began, "to make dinner. I want you to listen to him, alright?" he turned to see Teddy give a nod. "You'll probably be in bed by the time I get, but I take you down for breakfast tomorrow and we'll figure out what you want to do while I'm working."

"Okay," Teddy said easily, heading into his room. "I'll see you later, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry said, looking down at his watch to see that the time to leave had already passed. With the sound of Kreature appreciation into the room ringing in his ears, Harry bolted.

In his seven years away from his old school, Harry seemed to have forgotten just how large the castle was. I took him several minutes to find his way through the hall and into the enchanted staircase, and then even longer to find which changing set of steps he needed. Finally, however, he made his way to the ground level of Hogwarts. Finding the Great Hall from that point, thankfully, wasn't nearly as challenging.

When Harry finally approached the large magnificent doors—both intricate and enchanted in their design—he found it to be swarmed with student. Second years and above were filing in unorganized mass, each chattering to another.

Harry pulled back into the shadows, making sure he was hidden. He waited until almost every robe had gone inside and then quickly hurried past them.

The Great Hall was exactly as Harry remembered. From the magnificent columns and four long tables, to the magical night sky that seemed to twinkle above him. He breathed in and could remember everything; the smell of wood, admiring the way his insides warmed at the sight of this place. For the second time in his life, Harry felt at home.

As he glanced upwards, the warm fuzziness in his stomach dropped to his gut in a layer of anxiousness and nervousness. He gave a soft, uncomfortable cough.

The teachers table was at the very front of the room, almost a dozen brightly robed individuals sitting high in front of it, looming over all of their domains. McGonagall sat the highest in her chair, looking more powerful and wise than Harry could ever remember.

Harry knew, logically, that now that he was appointed as a professor, he was supposed to sit with them. But it felt unnatural to think of himself perched high on that pedestal. It felt to him that he should simply head over to the Gryffindor table and plop down in between Ron and Hermione who were probably bickering. He would have stared longingly at Ginny, hoped Ron wouldn't have notice, stifled a laugh at Neville's show of clumsiness, and then listen to Fred and George bicker.

But Harry couldn't do that anymore. Because he wasn't allowed to watching Ginny adoringly.

Because Fred had died.

And because he wasn't a child anymore.

Holding his head up high, Harry began to walk down the center isle towards his seat. As students saw him pass he could sense their eyes dart immediately upward, locked on his scar. The talking changed from lighthearted conversation to quiet muttering he wasn't supposed to hear. Harry ignored this and pressed forward, determined to keep his fists clenched in hopes of not revealing his sweaty palms.

Soon the other teachers noticed Harry presence, but did they not mutter or gawk as the younger generation did. They simply sat and looked at him in mixed gazes of respect and welcome.

Harry took noticed of a few of them. Near the center of the table, for instance, was a round faced slightly chubby man. He was smiling widely at Harry, his eyes twinkling in welcome. Covering his cheery expression were several scars to his face. Harry grinned; Neville Longbottom had certainly changed quite a bit from the nervous, bumbling boy Harry had once protected in a flying lesson.

Next to Neville sat the always misty eyed Luna Lovegood—or well, Luna Longbottom now. She grasped her husband's hand in hers, but gave Harry and equally friendly smile. Around her neck was a string of odd things such as bottle caps, animal teeth, and trinkets. Her blonde hair was pilled high on her head, several strand flowing out as if it were a fountain. Harry could completely stifle a chuckle—some things didn't change one bit.

Several seats down from Luna sat the always sneering face of Blaise Zabini . Harry didn't linger his gaze long there.

Next to Luna's other side was Hermione, who didn't even notice him as she was engaged in a passionate conversation with a pretty woman next to her had dirty blonde hair which was combed neatly, laying gently on her shoulders. Her eyes were a kind hazel, and her skin seem to shine from the contrast of her golden robes. She must have felt Harry's appraisal, because she turned to meet his eye. He smile warmly at her, and she blushed immediately, returning her attention to Hermione.

"Mr. Potter," a familiar voice spoke from behind him. Harry turned to be face-to-face with the Headmistress. "It was nice of you to show up," she scolded him good naturedly.

He flushed slightly. _So much for making a good impression,_ he though dryly. He cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, well, I'm sorry about—"

"If I recall correctly," McGonagall continued, "You were also tardy for your first class with me."

Harry flushed again at the childhood memory, McGonagall's old words flowing back into his mind, as though she was only just saying it now. "_Well, thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocket watch. That way, one of you might be on time."_

Harry gave her a sheepish grin. "Well," he said with a hint of amusement, "At least I didn't interrupt anything this time, Headmistress."

McGonagall chuckled lowly, a small smile stretching over her normally tight lips. "Yes, Harry. Small blessings, I'm sure." She glanced over her shoulder and Harry followed her gaze, watching as Hermione and the blonde woman approached them. Hermione was grinning as she tugged her company behind her, blushing and fidgeting all the way.

"Headmistress," Hermione greeted McGonagall easily.

"Mrs. Weasly, Ms. Dobbs," was the polite greeting.

Hermione turned Harry with a bright, over friendliness that he suspected was covering up something. "Harry," she began cheerfully, "this is Emma Dobbs, the charms Professor. She was just a couple years behind us in school. Remember, in Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." Harry lied, turning to introduce himself. He held a hand out to shake the flustered woman's and she only stood there for a moment, gaping wildly at his appendage.

"MS. Dobbs?" Harry asked gently, unsure is she was alright.

"Oh!" the woman gave a loud squeak of surprise. The, with a shocking amount of speed, she took Harry's hand into her petite one. "I'm sorry," she apologized, not meeting his gaze. _On the bright side,_ Harry mentally noted, _at least she's not staring at my scar._ "I feel so stupid for acting so star struck. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

"Harry," Harry insisted, "And, please, I'm not any kind of star."

"He's being humble," Hermione interjected quickly. "He's amazing, really. Even ignoring all of the obvious things he's done, from the stories I've heard from the auror department you would think—"

"Aren't you married, Hermione? I don't think Ron would appreciate you talking up another man like this."

"Ha ha," Hermione deadpanned in Harry's direction, all but sticking her tongue out at him. She looked towards the great Hall doors, now closed as students were taking their seats, and sighed. "I need to go get the first years in here for the sorting ceremony." Then, a warm smile in her best friend's direction, "Welcome back, Harry."

McGonagall hurried past both Harry and Ms. Dobbs without a word, gracefully sitting in her high chair.

"Shall we, Ms. Dobbs?" Harry asked the pretty blonde beside her, noticing the attractive shade of pink that rose on her skin.

"It's Emma," she said quietly as they both sat down next to one another, leaving Herminie's chair unoccupied.

"Emma," Harry repeated, smiling down at her.

Just then a swell of music surrounded the Great Hall—seemingly from nowhere—and everyone's' head whipped in the direction of the opening doorway. Hermione lead the crowd of small children behind her, standing with tall with an air of importance about her. Harry searched in the bundle of forty students, finding a head of long pale blonde hair that he immediately recognized as Morgana Malfoy's. As they all approached the head table, Hermione pulled out her wand and, with a flick of her wrist, a wooden stool slid over in front of her. On top of the stool stood a cracking, rather unwashed looking hat. The hat was twitching and swaying slowly, and Harry heard a gasp as a face appeared in the rotten fabric.

As the group of confounded children whispered amongst themselves, the twisted face in the hat opened its mouth, a rough voice singing out. Harry leaned forward, trying to hear the song perfectly in his ears.

_Now don't begin to laugh,_

_Or scoff at what you see._

_There isn't anyone who knows,_

_Just what you'll hear from me._

_I pick and choose just where you go,_

_And where I shout you'll stay._

_Just put me on and here my cry,_

_And join you're house today._

_Perhaps you'll be a Hufflepuff,_

_Kind and caring as can be._

_They never judge by skin or blood,_

_Always befriending you and me._

_Or is Slytherin your cup of tea,_

_With wit and slyness galore._

_Their charm and smart makes them allies,_

_Their spite and stabbing makes you sore._

_Ravenclaw is quick of mind,_

_Not puzzle they can't solve._

_Once found a true sharp mine,_

_The bond is never dissolved._

_Brave of heart and kind of mind,_

_Gryffindor's sword is strong swift steel._

_They'd give the shirts of their backs,_

_And to friend his last meal._

_So don't be shy to come towards me._

_And place me on your head._

_Once nestled in your hair_

_I'll see if you be gold, green, blue, or red._

Applause broke out through the great hall, though it seemed nervous and scattered amongst the first years. They were casting anxious nervous glances at each other, and Harry empathized with them completely.

Hermione stepped forward, holding out a long scroll of parchment. She cleared her throat in an obvious fashion and the applause faded to silence. She looked around at the waiting hall of people, and began to call out.

"Abbey, Hunter!"

A boy stepped forward, stumbling slightly, and sat on the stool. He was thin faced with neatly combed light brown hair.

The heat tensed suddenly and its mouth began to moved, though no sound could be heard. After moment, it shouted out, "Hufflepuff!"

Applause from the second table to the left, gold drappings held high above.

Grinning widely, the boy scrambled off to his new house.

"Arkwright, Marsha!"

A round faced, pig-like blonde girl was sent to Ravenclaw.

"Ayton, Peter!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Babton, Sara!"

"Gryffindor!"

They went on and on. Two more to Hufflepuff, three to Ravenclaw. A few were sent to Harry's old house, while several went to Slytherin.

Nyslo, Kingston to Gryffindor, and then came the shout of "Malfoy, Morgana!"

Hermione's voice had stumbled slightly over the name, her surprise unnoticeable to all but Harry. McGonagall leaned forward. Nearly all of the teachers were curious about the newest Malfoy member.

Morgana didn't meet anyone's eye as she sat slowly down. She rung her hands together frantically, her cheeks tinged with pink. Hermione placed the hat on her head. The hat wiggled for a moment, and finally called out, "Slytherin!"

All of the professors sat back in their chairs nodding to themselves. It seemed only natural that she go into her brother's alma mater.

More children took the stage, and Harry clapped as they all left looking content.

"Sinlaur, Malcolm" was the last child to take the seat. He had a head full of sleek black hair, which sat perfectly parted. His face was pretty for a boy, his eyes open. He seemed less anxious than his year mates, a half smile plastered on his youthful expression. He casually eased himself on the seat not even blinking as the scrap of fabric over his eyes.

The hat took the longest time now, turning and wiggling the boys head. Harry felt a painful sense of Déjà Vu at the motions.

_"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all in your head, Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that, no? Well then, better be…"_

"RAVENCLAW!" Shouted the hat upon Malcolm's head, breaking Harry from his memories.

The boy smiled as his table cheered, looking perfectly comfortable easing his way into the bench.

More clapping resounded as the end of sorting was complete .

McGonagall stood silently and gave the crowd a half smile, raising her hands in the air. "Welcome back!" She called out. "To celebrate our new students and ease our festering appetites, enjoy!" With a smooth spin of her wand food lined both the from teachers table and each of the houses'.

Harry waited for Hermione to sit down next to Emma before he reached over for a slice of turkey, also piling potatoes and greens up high. He hadn't realized until this point just how hungry he was. He hoped Teddy was being fed well.

"So," Emma said to Harry, approaching conversation for the first time, "I hear you and your godson are staying here."

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yes. Teddy and I are on the third floor."

"How old is he?"

"Seven."

She smiled. "You love him a lot."

"Yes," Harry agreed, glad that the emotion was so plain on his face. "I do."

"Harry," Hermione called to him. He leaned behind Emma and his friend did the same. "Molly wanted me to ask—or rather _demand_ –that you're able to make it to dinner Sunday evening. Hagrid will be coming as well."

"Will he?" Harry asked, please. Hagrid had retired a few years ago, moving both himself and Grasp to a small farm outside London. Harry received both letters and gifts from his old friend,, but missed him dearly. Harry shrugged. Ginny hadn't been to a family dinner in a while—to busy with her work at the ministry—so Harry felt that he should. "Teddy and I will be there."

"Great," she grinned at him. Then, turning towards Emma, she asked, "Have you got your lessons planned yet?"

"Some of them." Emma answered guiltily. "You?"

Hermione barely hid the smug grin beneath the surface. "Up to Easter break. Harry?"

Harry grimaced. He barely had a vague idea what he was doing week after next. "I'm getting there," he answered lowly.

Hermione frowned at him, but otherwise said nothing.

It was after a few more minutes of Emma and Hermione chatting away that McGonagall finally stood.

"Greetings!" Her speech began. "And Welcome back to Hogwarts! For all the new comers, I hope you enjoy your first night here, and for all the returning of you, your first night _back. _Before I release you for the evening, I have a few announcements."

Her tone dropped to a more business-like sound and her shoulder squared.

"The forbidden forest, as many of you are already aware, is strictly off-limits to students. Also, there is a list that our caretaker, Mr. Filch—"_Does he ever leave?_ Harry wondered—of other forbidden office posted outside his office should you wish to see them. Quidditch tryouts are left up to team captains, so see them for any dates. I would like to remind you that first years are not permitted to own their own brooms." She cast a quick glance towards Harry, who flushed, embarrassed.

"And finally, greeting to our new Defense Against the Dark Art Professor, Professor Potter!" Harry stood gazing around as the mutter began again and gave an awkward bow. He smiled briefly before sitting down, feeling the heat rush up to his skin.

He had never much appreciated the attention his scar often cost him.

McGonagall was almost finished. "First years please follow your Prefects to the house dormitories. Sleep peacefully and prepare for your classes! Just before we say good night, please join our school song!"

As the entire hall rang with voice, Harry barely joined in. Most of his attention was based upon the face of Malcolm Sinlaur, who was staring at Harry with an expression he hadn't expect. He wasn't looking at his new Professor with curiosity or anger or even pity. He was looking at him with…_understanding_. Like he knew exactly how uncomfortable Harry was in this crowd.

Harry hadn't even bothered to listen to the rest of the song, and the last words he recalled before the body of students left was "Goodnight!" from McGonagall.

Harry gave both Hermione and Emma a quiet goodnight, greeting Luna and Neville briefly, and then immediately left.

He walked into his small home on the third floor, and made a bee line for Teddy's room. He could hear the soft snores coming from Kreature's wrinkled house-elf body on the couch, but ignored him. Kreature often slept in much odder places, and Harry didn't want to wake him.

Harry snuck quietly into his Godson's room and bent down to gaze at him. He made sure, as he had done often, that his only family was sleeping soundly. Then, with only the deepest father love, he bent down to kiss Teddy's pale forehead. "Goodnight," he whispered, and ruffled his son's hair.

With one last smile, Harry left the chamber to find his own peaceful slumber.


	5. Skeeters and Sinlaurs

Skeeters and Sinlaurs

Chapter 5

Harry lent in against the dark mahogany door. The wood feeling cool pressed to the over-heated skin of his ear. Harry's feet danced underneath him nervously while his fingers did the same.

Harry hadn't felt this anxious in quite some time. His heart was beating wildly, echoing through the otherwise silent hallway. His skin was slightly sweaty, glistening from the bright flicker of candlelight shining through the corridor. He felt as though his lungs were pushed tight against his rib cage, and his breathing was coming out in quick pants.

He could hear the rumble of murmuring behind the thick door, and it was obvious that his students were growing restless.

"You're being ridiculous," Ron's voice seemed to say in his mind. "You're bloody Harry Potter, and a room full of fifth years frightens you? What the hell, get in there!"

Harry took a long breath. He wasn't sure what exactly made him nervous. He had taught Dumbledore's Army in his fifth year and even that hadn't been nearly as nerve wracking. Perhaps it was that this time he had expectations placed upon him. He was no longer a classmate or friend trying to show everyone what he knew best. Now, he was a _teacher_, and besides that, his first class were fifth years from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The fifth years from the remaining houses would be in the class immediately after this. They would have to pass their O.W.L.S this year.

Harry could remember his own fifth year well. He had nearly been run ragged, and _Hermione, _she was even worse off.

Harry began to wonder how he should enter the room. He knew as well as anyone that students were the first to notice a soft easily pushed around professor, And contrarily, the last thing he wanted to be was an unrelated able person who frightened his students-then again-most people would agree that Harry Potter had never made an intimidating first impression.

Would he be kind and gentle, as Lupin had first appeared to be? Or, strict and demanding, like Alastair Moody's impersonator?

Harry's hand gripped the golden doorknob softly, and then finally, he turned it.

None of the fifth years even noticed as Harry entered. They were all grouped near the front of the room, formed in a tight circle. In the center of the group, sitting on top of a desk, were two boys dressed in scarlet robes. One was a handsome blonde, his face made up of sharp angles. His eyes were a grass green, that for some reason, sparked in Harry's memory. The boy next to him was chubbier, his raven-black hair hanging down in front of his dull blue eyes. Harry smiled, pushing his own unruly locks to the side.

Casually, he leaned against the doorframe watching as the entranced class listened to the black haired boy.

"…in his fourth year! Can you imagine it, a Hungarian Horntail! And even then, he took first place in the tournament! And in Potter's fifth year…" he paused for dramatic effect. The entire class lent forward as a result. "…He took on the entire Ministry! They were corrupt at the time, you know, and he marched right up to the Minister of Magic and demanded tha…"

"Come of it, Kinston." The blonde boy said with an air of nonchalance. "Potter was only 15 when he went to the Ministry. There's no way he _demanded _any bloody thing from the Minister of Magic. And anyway," he turned toward the group, his bored persona fading as a devious grin spread over his large chinned face. "Potter isn't _nearly_ the perfect person he seems to be. The things my aunt could tell you…" he trailed off suggestively.

"Like what, Peter?" asked a girl sitting near him.

This appeared to be all the motivation Peter needed. "Apparently, he was a bit of a nutter," he told the class in a gleeful tone. "Had episodes of fainting and screaming all over the school. He once attacked his potions teacher."

The first boy seemed put out at his friend's interruption as he hastened to right himself.

"Where's the proof of that?" he bit out. "Even if he was a bit off-his-rocker, he still defeated He-who-must-not-be-named _twice_, found the Chamber of Secrets, won the Triwizarding Tournament, and saved the Sansamers Stone!" He nodded, sure that his point was made. Peter, the golden haired boy beside him simply rolled his eyes.

Harry had decided it was time to interject himself.

"It was the Sorcerer's stone, actually." He said quietly, walking forward into the room. The entire classroom seemed to pause, all of their expressions turning from shock to horror and finally settling on fearful embarrassment. The two boys in the center, however, seemed to be the most fearful of all.

"To think of it," Harry said to himself, "They're _afraid_ of me."

Harry took several steps forward, his soft footsteps seemed to be the only noise in the tension-filled room. He smiled at his students, but they only seemed to pull back farther in nervousness. Disheartened, he tried to lighten the mood.

"Thank you for the fascinating story, gentleman. Although, I'm afraid not half of what you said was true. I'm not _nearly_ that interesting." He gave another small grin and was pleased to see that none of the fifth years shrank back.

Harry clapped his hands together, thinking that it was time to start the lesson for the day.

"Everyone in their seats, please," he requested. As the students shifted in their seats, Harry thought of his lessons, preparing mentally. For his fifth year class, he was taking his old "Professor's" example and teaching the unforgivable curses. Knowledge of them would be required for the written portion of the O.W.L.S. Sixth years were immediately beginning non-verbal spells, and seventh years would be spending most of their classes dueling. He chose to use basics for first years, at least for now. Second years would be taught the devices of dark magic, while third years would be starting higher level curses.

McGonagall had approved this direction in his teaching. Harry simply had to hope for the best.

Opening his trunk at the back of the room, Harry pulled out three small cages, each containing a small Canary. They chirped loudly, so Harry quickly flicked his wand in their direction, muttering _silencio._

He turned around then, surprised to see that all of the students were seated, most looking at him sheepishly.

Harry cleared his throat nervously. He righted the collar of his robes and ran a hand through his hair.

"Right," he said.

"Get a grip, Potter."_ He thought to himself, before _He smiled at the class. "My name," he began, stating the obvious, "Is Professor Potter. As you know, this is your O.W.L. year, and as so will be more challenging than any year previously.

Keeping with this theme, I will be assigning a 12 inch paper every two weeks, which will be due to me on the second Friday." Harry heard the entire class give a stifled groan, and he smirked slightly. "But," he continued, " let's move on to less… _undesirable_ topics, shall we?" he chuckled lightly, and was pleased to hear a few braver students answer his laugh with their own.

"First off," he began again, but stopped when he saw a hand raised high in the air. "Yes?" he questioned hesitatingly.

"Professor," a female voice with an unmistakable accent inquired. "What did you mean earlier when you said the stories were only_ halfway_ true? Did you not actually get passed a Hungarian Horntail?"

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. He knew his past would come up eventually. "Well, Miss…?"

"Gordon, Sir."

Harry smiled again, tilting his head to see a extraordinarily small brunette haired girl with pixie like features looking back at him. Her chin was raised high, and her eyes held a air of respectful confidence.

"Miss Gordon, while the bit about the dragon is true, I was making a point that stories are often exaggerated."

"So you didn't find the Chamber of Secrets? Or win the Triwizard Tournament? Or defeat you-know-who twice? Are you saying nothing you did was true then?" It was a different voice this time, edged with disdain and an accusatory tone. The voice of the blonde boy-Peter.

The class swiveled around in their seats, facing the boy with open astonishment. The pixie featured girl-Miss Gordon-looked at him murderously.

"What is your name?" Harry asked the boy, his tone more curious than angry.

He looked at Harry with a glare that said "I know more than you."

"Skeeter," he answered proudly.

Harry almost burst out laughing. Of course_!_ He should have recognized the relation immediately!

"Are you related to a Ms. Rita Skeeter?" He asked, already sure he knew the answer.

The boy smiled smugly. "My aunt," was all he said.

Harry chuckled again. "Send her my regards," he told the boy, "And in answer to your question, yes, I did do all those things. The point I was trying to make was that all of those things sound much more… _heroic_ than they actually were. I had a lot of help, and even more luck."

"But you were still being brave!" The boy from earlier shouted.

Harry sighed. He turned to the class trying to make his presents full of seriousness. "This is Defense Against the Dark Arts," he began. "In no way is this story time. None of my personal endeavors should be approached unless for academic reasons, understood?" He watched, slightly amazed as the entire class nodded. He continued on in a deep persuasive voice. "But if I teach you anything this year, I should hope it's this; Bravery isn't running into every fight that comes your way. Bravery is learning which fights are worth winning, and which are worth losing."

All of the children gazed at Harry as though he had just showed them the door to the department of mysteries.

Harry cleared his throat again, deciding to progress. "Er… Right, So." He walked around the room, trying to regain his position. "Who can give me an example of a curse?" He started off.

A hand in the back went up, and a voice began to speak before he could call upon it.

"Leg-Locker curse."

Another hand, "Reductor curse."

Miss Gordon, her voice ringing out more sure than the rest, "Thief's curse!"

"Gemino curse!"

"Jelly-fingers curse!"

"All right!" Harry said laughing at their exuberance. "Very good. Who can tell me what the objective of any curse is?"

"To hurt someone!" The brown haired boy from earlier shouted. The class laughed, harmonizing with Harry's low chuckles.

"Yes," He agreed, "but, more to the point, it is to use or manipulate an opponent in battle. Curses are always oppositional. There are two ways, however, to block a curse-"

"Counter curses and Protego," cut in a fuzzy headed dark skinned boy from Hufflepuff.

"Excellently done, Mr.-"

"Cargny. Professor, Jacob Cargny.

"Ten points to Hufflepuff," Harry gave out feeling a little excited by realizing those were his first points.

He continued with the lesson. "There are, however, three curses that are so powerful-so devastating-that they have no counter-curse, and _Protego_ is completely useless against them. Just one use of any of these three will give you an immediate trip to Azkaban." Harry glanced around making sure that each and every one of them understood the seriousness of what he was saying. "These are called the Unforgivable curses. Does anyone know one?"

Silence. Awkward, tension filled silence enveloped the classroom.

"Anyone?"

"The Cruciatus Curse," a small timid voice echoed through the room. It was high pitched and sounded anxious. Harry scanned the classroom for the voice twice, and his eyes finally landed on a blonde haired girl in yellow robes. Her hair was pinned up elegantly behind her head. She lifted her eyes up to meet Harry's. They were a dim, pleasant shade of hazel. It took Harry a moment to see these attributes of hers, however, because his eyes couldn't move from the long scar traveling across the right side of her face. It was an ugly, raised scar that made the rest of her face look tilted and odd. He pulled himself out of his unbearably rude staring and cleared his throat.

"Quite right, Miss…"

"Dobbs. Sarah Dobbs."

_"As in Emma Dobbs?" _he enquired to himself.

"Take another five points," he gave her, forcing his curiosity down. "Anyone else?"

"The ImperiusCurse," Peter Skeeter said, seeming completely uninterested in the rest of the lesson. Harry nodded, giving five points to Gryffindor.

"And the last?"

There was hardly a breath in the air, and no one was brave enough to move an inch. Harry could tell from the solemn and blank looks that many of his students knew the answer. He answered himself, his voice coarse with emotion, his hands clenching repeatedly while his gaze stared off into the far distance, as he remembered the blinding green flash of light.

"_Avada Kedavra_," his whisper filled the silent room, "the Killing Curse."

The class seemed to freeze, locked in stillness as they watched their professor fight within himself, his breaths deep and long. Finally, after so many endless seconds, Harry smiled.

"The first," he began, moving toward the Canary furthest to the left of his desk, "As Miss Dobbs pointed out to us, is the Cruciatus Curse. The point of this curse is to cause one's prey unimaginable pain-unbearable and unkillable pain."

"Unkillable?" The Skeeter boy interrupted with a shrewd tone, "If it can't kill anybody, then why would you use it?"

Harry chuckled darkly as he placed the dainty bird on the desk. "Actually, Mr. Skeeter, I can tell you from personal experience that after so much physical pain, death can seem like a welcome thing."

The boy's eyes went wide as he glanced up to his teacher.

Harry went on as though he saw nothing. "Now, I must warn you before I begin this experiment. This is going to be a bit… gruesome. If you need to leave at any time, you're welcome to go on down to the hospital wing." He flashed them a playful warning glance, "But if you try to take advantage of this to get a free pass out of my class, be warned," he winked slyly, receiving a few chuckles in return, "I will find out."

Harry then went on to perform all three curses, one on each unsuspecting bird. During the first, the bright bird chirped in pain, almost screeching in its torment. Harry could only bear to hold the spell for a few seconds, wincing with every agonizing squawk that filled the room. Many of the students had to look away during this, and Harry spotted more than one young lady's eyes glistening with tears. Sarah Dobbs, in particular, seemed to cringe as she gazed intently upon the animal. Several times in the short span of seconds Harry saw one of her small delicate hands reach out towards the bird, as if there are only inches separating them instead of feet.

For the second, Imperious_, _Harry controlled the bird, forcing it to hop from one desk to another. As he did this, he spoke of what being under the curse feels like, and how difficult it is to throw off. Harry noticed that unlike his own fourth year class, this crowd did not cackle and laugh at the animal's actions. Perhaps though, this is because they could hat they're teacher does not enjoy forcing another's will; that he, unlike the fraudulent "Mad-eye Moody," take perverted pleasure in harming.

No one in the room moved while a flash of green light fills their vision momentarily. No one cried for the bird, though Harry couldn't find a single grin in the crowd. Even shrewd arrogant Peter Skeeter couldn't take his eyes off the dead carcass sitting on Harry's desk. Harry gazed down in sadness at his victim. Trying to both lighten the atmosphere in the room, and to morn for his murder, Harry quickly vanished the dead bird, and placed the other two in their cages.

Pulling his pocket watch out of his robes, the weary professor decided it was time to wrap up his first class. He tells them that next time, they will be going further in depth with these curses, and that they need to bring nothing but their wands. He then is unable to help but cast a curious glance at the young Dobbs, then he smiled brightly and dismisses them.

It was later in the day, after Harry had dismissed his first years that he heard his name being called. It took him a second to respond, still not used to the title of "Professor" but he finally turns, surprised to find Malcolm Sinlaur, small and dressed in a black and sapphire robe. He was looking upwards at his Professor, a smile pressed lightly to his face. His pale blue eyes seemed to sparkle with raven-eyed curiosity.

"Yes Malcolm?" Harry asked at once, placing his book back onto his desk behind him. He wondered what the boy was doing here; Malcolm had done well in his first class, although he hadn't asked any questions. He had simply sat there and listened more intently than any other of his classmates, nodded and soaking up every detail of Harry's introduction to Defense Against the Dark Arts. This boy was intense in his interest, while still avoiding looking at his Professor as a deity versus a simple man.

"I was wondering, Sir," the boy began in a polite and cautious, but unafraid tone, "How often we would be using _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_ this year?"

"Why do you ask?"

Malcolm looked down now, the first time Harry had seen any sort of bashfulness from the young wizard. "well, Sir, I'm Muggle born and my parent's had a hard enough time with the robes, and…"

"Ahh," Harry said knowingly, a sudden shock of pity went through him. "You will need a book for your homework assignments later in the year," he told his student as he turned around and bent down, digging through a scarlet trunk beneath the classroom desk. He pulled out his personal copy of the book, brushed it off, and turned. "Here you are," he continued, "An extra."

"Thank you," Malcolm said sincerely.

Harry smiled, "not a problem. Just take care of it."

The boy's eyes tightened then the silverfish blue turned almost fiery for an instant. His youths mouth curved into a sneering smile as he said a last " Yes Professor," and left the room.

That night, Harry fell asleep thinking of that darkened blue and shuddering in an unknown fear.


	6. Tensions and Teachers

Tensions and Teachers

Chapter 6

Somewhere, tucked into the oblivious English country side, was a large, oddly misshapen house. It was formed of brick which seemed to have faded and yellowed from age in some places, while still looking brand new in others. The drappings over the windows were all brightly colored and mismatched, and the roof was composed of several thick layers of straw. To the uneducated, ignorant muggle eye this place would look like something disgned from a story book or an almost nightmarish dream. But, for those in the wizarding world, who understood what they were seeing, could have detected the hominess of the place. It had had obvious engorment charms placed upon it, and was well kept. This place was a bustle of wizarding activity; a home where all were accepted, and all were loved.

Inside this atmosphere of bright and cheerful familness only seemed to increase. Inside the once small, now incredibly enhanced kitchen, a enormously large dinning table took up most of the space, with a smaller one off to the side.

Around the larger piece of furniture sat more than a dozen adults, each chattering happily to one another as they passed plates and dishes. Harry sat in the center of the left side, with George on his left and Ron on his right, Hermione right besides him. The latter was seated next to Hagrid, who took up the entire head of the table by himself. George was seated next to his wife of several years, and Harry's old Quidditch mate, Angelina Johnson. Across from Hermione was Percy and his wife Audrey, and then Molly, and then Charlie. At the head of the table was Arthur, who seemed to be engrossed in conversation with his third eldest son about ministry work.

Bill, Fleur and their children, who would have normally been present for such a meal, were off in France for the moment, visiting the Delacoures

All of the children were seated around a more conventional sized round table a few feet away, separating them from the adults.

Harry had been directing his attention to George for the past twenty minutes, listening as the excitable red head gave Harry detailed descriptions about the new _Exploding Bowler Caps _that he was planning to introduce to the joke shop. When Harry looked at the solitary twin, he felt as though he were seeing only half a person. True, after Fred's death, George took the worst hit. He isolated himself for more than a year; he never visited family or came to work. Percy and Ron had to pull together almost all of their available resources just to keep the store afloat. Molly pestered George every moment day and night to get up and eat, talk to people, and become part of the family again. It took more than eighteen months for the treatment to finally begin to work. Now, seven years later, George almost looked himself. He was smiling and laughing as he was before. He was close to his family, and had even married and was expecting a baby of his own any day now. Still, sometimes when George would make a joke, Harry felt as though that he was waiting for some invisible presence near to him to make another punch line. Or occasionally George would gain a long, deep look into space, though he were speaking to someone no one else could see.

"Harry," Hermione called out, claiming his notice as she leaned in front of Ron, her torso almost pressed into the food below her.

"Hmm?" Harry replied in an offhand tone, still chewing the thick slice of beef that rested in between his teeth.

"What did you think of Emma?"

"Emma?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his friend give him an incredulous glare. "The charms Professor, you know, the pretty-"

Her words were cut short as every other conversation in the room suddenly synchronized, heads turning to the back door of the kitchen. Harry, glad that the new arrival was getting Hermione's attention redirected, looked back down at his food. He had understood immediately why Hermione was introducing him to Emma. She was certainly pretty, Harry honestly noted, but so were the many other women Harry had met. He needed more than good lucks. He needed fierceness and humor and intelligent and, and….more. Harry needed….

"Ginny!"

Molly's surprised voice cut through Harry's thoughts and his gaze flew upwards, his eyes wide. Standing in the small doorway of the Burrow was a young woman with flaming red her which fell to her waist. She was very petite, with a thin, athletic chin that was narrow and somewhat pointed and her cheek bones were high. She had a small, though delicately curved nose and bright brown eyes. Like the color of melting chocolate.

She was smiling, her face flushed from the brisk fall blazing hair was in disarray, she brushed a few pieces from her face as she slipped off her jacket.

Ginny's grin widened as she saw her mother reproaching. When she finished

Unraveling her emerald scarf from her neck she threw it on the hook next to her and then turned, embracing her mother. Harry's eyes followed her every moment, barely willing to believe her presence was real.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" Molly told Ginny, holding her arms length apart, as though examining her. She frowned. "You're not eating well enough."

Ginny laughed, swinging her hair behind her head. Harry's eye followed the movement. "I was in Bulgaria," Ginny said, ignoring her mother's last comment, "speaking with their team's new chaser. Turns out it didn't last as long as I though it would. So I thought I pop in for dinner, if that's all right?'

"Of course, of course," Molly said eagerly, slapping Percy on the shoulder and motioning for him to move over.

"What were you dong in Bulgaria, dear?" Arthur asked, taking a long sip of his drink.

"The new chaser is thinking about switching teams, and the ministry didn't want any nasty blood in the mix," Ginny said. Harry gulped. She still hadn't noticed Harry's presence yet, and he was taking advantage of this to gaze at her bright grin. His stomach swooped violently downwards, his heart seeming to settle into his throat uncomfortably. Harry had forgotten how beautiful she looked when she smiled-like an angel descended from above.

Ginny grinned brightly at her father, leaning across a few people to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "It's fantastic to be home," she announced to no one in particular, glancing joyfully at the bundle of mostly red-heads around her. Her eyes halted immediately, however, as they landed on Harry's.

Her grin dropped and her eyes grew wide. Harry could not look away. No one else spoke for a long moment, and the silence grew tense.

Harry inhaled deeply, and opening his mouth to speak. "Ginny-

"Harry-"

They both paused and waited for the other to continue.

"How are-"

"I've heard-"

Silence refolded around them. A few people around the table laughed awkwardly, eyes peeled on the stiff, unmoving couple. Harry nodded his head, letting Ginny speak first.

"How have you been?" she began, her tone cautious. A blush rose to warm her freckled skin.

"Fine." Harry answered, pulling his collar away from his damped neck. "And yourself?"

"Fine."

More silence.

"I didn't realize you were going to be here tonight," Ginny ventured forward, her gaze dropping unceremoniously to her lap." A pause. "I hear you working for Hogwarts now? How is that going along?"

"It's…its going good. Great." the raven haired man searched blindly through his mind, desperate for a topic change. "You just got back from Bulgaria, hm? How was it there? Quidditch team any good?"

"Team looks alright this year. I spent most of the time working. Spent a little time with old friends."

"Hmm?" Harry asked the obvious question without actually forming words, his polite tone slipping slightly. He hadn't seen her for almost nine months and now she was just _so close…_Harry reached for his knife, hoping to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Viktor Krum says hello, by the way."

The sound of silverware clashing against once another echoed twice through the small kitchen.

Harry and Ron both looked up, startled. Ron raised both eyebrows, a small scowl appearing on his face. Harry felt his face begin to turn red, a thick cable of anger churning his insides. He could recall that, at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Krum had taken quite a liking to Ginny. "_Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken_" he had asked glumly.

"You speaking to _Vikki_ are you?" Ron bit out, his eyes darting between Ginny and Hermione angrily.

Ron's wife simply rolled her eyes, and turned to speak to Molly as conversation slowly began to pick up again.

Ginny opened her mouth to protest at her brothers antics, but something by her leg caught her attention. She looked down, and Harry followed her gaze to see a head of bright turquoise hair stick up over the table.

"Ted!" Ginny greeted the boy, lifting him up to place the boy on her lap. They embraced each other deeply. "I've missed you," she told the boy. Her eyes swept over him, appraising his condition. "You've gotten so big," she told him, touching his nose in a maternal fashion.

Teddy grinned brightly. "That's what Madam Prince said yesterday," he announced proudly. "I get to help her in the Library everyday."

Ginny gasped in excitement, her eyes growing a little too large. "Really?"

"Yep! Isn't that cool, Gin?"

Harry grinned, his heat pulsing with warmth to see the woman he loved holding the boy he saw as a son. A moment after Ginny and Teddy began speaking to each other in soft, confidential tones, a thought occurring to him.

"Hermione?"

The bushy haired Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry curiously. "The Charms Professor you were mentioning," he began.

"Emma?" Hermione asked nervously, her eyes darting between Ginny and Harry like a quaffle in a quittiditch match. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny's head of flaming hair twitch slightly.

"Yes. Emma Dobbs." Harry clarified. "Does she happen to have a sister? A fifth year?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. She nodded, absent mindedly placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Yes. Sarah, I think her names is. Bright girl; top of her class." Her expression darkened considerably. "Poor girl, though." She shook her head sadly, "She didn't deserve what happened to her."

Harry instantly recalled the long scar that stretched along the pretty girl's face.

"What happened?"

Hermione leaned in closer, ignoring Ron's protests, and said "She was attacked as a baby. Or well, at least her family was. Death eaters apparently put the Impervious curse on her parents and forced them to…well…to _maim _their new born baby." Hermione's gaze shifted to her own daughter and son, sitting near the corner of the room. An expression of sadness and adoring.

Harry scowled. What he wouldn't give to go track down those sick bastards…

"That's awful," Ginny's voice whispered quietly, her expression etched with remorse. With a sharper tone, "What happened to the death eaters?" she demanded, wrapping her arms tightly around Teddy and burying in his brightly colored locks.

Hermione smirked darkly, "Last I heard, rotting in Azkaban."

Several grunts of approval sounded around the room.

"Damn ruddy monster, them" Hagrid growled out.

Harry laughed, deciding now was as best as time as any to drop the dung bomb news to his best mate. With a friendly slap on Ron's back, Harry half laughed out, "Speaking of monsters, we're having a butterbeer with a old friend next week."

"Hmm?" Ron asked, his mouth clogged with food.

Harry grinned inwardly before answering. "Draco Malfoy."

A long series of chokes rose from Ron's throat, and when he finally caught his breath he all but screamed, "Draco bloody _who!_"

* * *

Harry sighed as he saw the last strand of Hermione's hair pass out of the Burrow's back door. The night, as all nights at the Weasley's were, was loud and energized. George had apparently brought some of his fireworks tucked into his pockets he had forgotten about. Rose and Hugo, being the curious children of Ron they were, had found them halfway through dinner and tried to light the table on fire. The adults had solved the problem in a matter of moments, but Hermione's wrath at her brother in law lasted for the rest of the meal.

Now that most of the family were gone, Harry felt relieved to be lounging in the quiet den, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

He couldn't stop smiling at the sight before him. Sitting on the rug, facing the window, Ginny and Ted were playing wizarding chess. Harry could see how Ginny taught him with patience and kindness. Teddy's brow would wrinkle with distaste and frustration when he couldn't figure out a move, and then his expression would smooth out when she reached across the board to show him where to move his piece.

Above the couch, the clock struck nine. Harry sighed, shifting forward in his seat. He watched as the glow from the candle light fluttered wildly around Ginny's hair, creating a more angelic look than before. Harry sighed; sometimes she was so beautiful it made his heart stop.

"Teddy," Harry sighed, standing up and making his way towards the two figures near the window. Both the blue haired boy and the fire tempered angel looked up as Harry approached. Ginny stood at once, offering Harry a weak smile and a friendly glance.

"Yes?" Teddy asked, glancing upwards at his godfather.

Harry reached out to ruffle the boys hair and kneeled down, kissing him on the forehead. "It's time to go home, Ted. I have work early tomorrow morning."

Teddy sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll get my jacket." He gave Ginny one more tight hug around her middle, mumbling "Bye Aunt Gin," and then he walked back into the kitchen, a little less skip in his step tha before.

Then it was just Harry and Ginny alone.

"It was nice to see you," Ginny said, taking a step closer to him.

Harry cleared his throat, fighting against the urge to press himself to her; to soak up her warmth within himself. "You too."

Suddenly, without warning, Harry's hands were pressed against Ginny's back, her body curling around his in a tight hug. Her long hair tickled his nose as he was surrounded by her scent. Her arms were tangle loosely behind his neck, her fingers pressing into the bare skin at the nape.

"I missed you," the words were whispered into his skin, tingling his oversensitive skin.

"Me too, Gin." Harry sighed, unable to deny it. He pulled her closer to him. "Me too."

After a few seconds, Ginny pulled her self out of Harry's unwilling arms, pressing her hand lightly to his chest. "Don't be gone so long, Harry," she told him, fighting back a smile. "I need my best friend around, m'kay?"

The word tore at Harry.

Friend. _Friend_.

He gave a small, terse smile and stepped back. "Will do," he said, nodding.

Friend. That was all he would ever be again. No more. He was no longer Harry, the boy she loved. Or even Harry, whom she had a small school girl crush on. He was Harry, brothers best friend. He was just Harry. Harry her friend.

She waved good-bye one last time and then, with an earsplitting crack through out the air, she was gone.

* * *

Tucked into the thick wood stood a masked figure.

The beings back was held at a rigid, straight position to a point where it looked almost inhuman. It's thin body was covered by a dark, thick wool cloak that hid each piece of skin and hair the figure might have possessed. The figure might have been completely hidden in the shadow of night as it waited, if it wasn't for the bright mask that rested upon it's face. The mask was a glowing, luminescence silver which seemed to shimmer on the figure's face. The mask was composed of gentle curves and an express less tone, making it impossible to tell where it was masculine of feminine. Around the statue-like being was only silence; not even the sound of a rustling leaf or a chirping insect could be heard. The figure seemed to belong only in it's own world. A world of shadows and secrets. A world where only one controlled. A shade in darkness was the Teacher.

A boy, his feet cracking against the dead leaves beneath him, approached the figure from behind.

The figure did not turn as it spoke. "You came." The figure's voice was rough and cold, it's edge metallic. Like a machine, the tone was unemotional. Detached.

The boy swallowed, his jet black hair invisible in the darkness. "I...I found your note."

"Good." The instructor turned, and the boy could see a wand pressed closely to the fabric covered neck of his instructor. "Do you understand what needs to be done?"

"Yes, Teacher."

"Do you realize what is at stake if you fail? What we are preventing?"

The boy nodded, his expression deathly serious.

"Where will you look first?"

The boy told his instructor, who stepped closer. "Excellent," the Teacher said. "You were always my brightest."

The boy's face flushed with pride, though it was invisible in the darkness of night.

"Will the others help you? Do they remain faithful to The Cause?"

"We shall always remain faithful, Teacher."

The figure nodded, stepping closer.

"You must not fail me. You must not fail us all."

"Yes, Teacher. I will never fail you. I will never fail The Cause."

A cloak covered hand landed gently, softer than air on the trees. "I trust in you, Kinston . You must trust in The Cause. You must trust in the true Master."

"I trust, Teacher."

Kinston Walker had just been given his task. The task of two lifetimes.


	7. Cannons and Complications

Chapter 7

Cannon's and Complications

The giant snake slithered and rose up high on its scaled stomach, barring it's glistening white fangs at the cowering third year in front of it. The girl quaked and shivered, her eyes large as the animal crept further and further towards her, it's green eye narrowing into a reptilian slits.

Behind the terrified girl stood a long line of classmates, all watching her fear speed and spread with no sympathy in their gazes. They watched the girl as a eagle would watch a mouse scurry across a field of green.

The girl backed up several steps, away from the progressing monster, her heart beating wildly in her small chest.

She raised her wand, "Ri….ridikk-" she stuttered out breathlessly.

The snake lowered its magnificent head, teeth shinning in the light as he cornered his prey, the adrenaline pumping through her blood, making it all the more sweet.

A tall figure standing behind all the students, blending into the background, stood up, about to intervene for the girl's safety.

Finally closing her eye and taking one long, sweeping breath the girl raised her wand and shouted out, clear and unafraid, " Ridikkulus!"

The snake was hit with the full force of the spell. It withered and shrank back, deflating as if it were a balloon until it was nothing more than snakeskin rug against the hardwood floor.

The crowd behind the girl cheered and hollered as she grinned in unhidden triumph.

The figure in the back moved forward, pushing strands of his unruly midnight hair from his eyes. His piercing emerald stare locked on the girl in the front, concern showing in them. His footsteps were firm and confident, but quiet in their softness. "Miss Ebknots?" he asked gently, coming forward to touch his thirteen year olds student's arm in comfort. "Are you alright?"

The girl looked up at him, eye sparkling. Perhaps it was the way his emerald orbs looked back at her, seeming to glitter with compassion, or the way his raven-hair fell messily forward in his face, making him look all the more dashing, but whatever the cause, Mackinzie Ebknots felt a strong fancy for her new professor flutter in her stomach.

"I'm just fine," she said, standing on her tip-toes to get closer to him, smelling the scent of fresh soap and the smell of man from his skin. It was intoxicating and she felt herself leaning closer, inhaling the fragrance. "I'm much better," she whispered out, fluttering her eyelashes invitingly as her voice came out as a breathless whisper. "Thank you so much for your help, Professor."

Harry jumped back, growing more uncomfortable and nervous by his young students affections then he could remember since his sixth year. Ramilda Vane had nothing on girls in Harry's class. As of the past three weeks, the newest Professor had had three dozen chocolate cauldrons delivered, about four dozen owls, and more than twenty girls stop by and ask for "Private study session". One sixth year girl in particular had her skirt pulled all the way up to her thigh before he'd even had the door shut. In a panic, he'd flushed, mumbled something about a meeting and ran as fast as he could without falling.

"Right." he said, clearing his throat and feeling his skin warm with shameful heat. He walked quickly up to the front of the room-half to hide his reddening cheeks, and sit down in the large arm chair behind his desk. Three classes of dueling and boggarts and no relaxation what so ever-his feet were killing him. He pulled back the long sleeve of his robes to check his wristwatch-an old golden time piece once owned by Molly Weasley's brother Fabian-to see that it was almost time for the end of class.

He turned back to his students, a grin of relief and exhaustion already setting over his expression.

"Alright. Very well done class, and ten points ravenclaw to Mister Peterson for his _excellent_ use of a ogre

by turning it into a giant waxed model." He smiled at a small red-headed boy in the front of the class. "Now," he continued in a brusque tone, "I assigned a paper _two weeks ago _on Ghouls and their connections to Ghosts. It's due next class. Also," he said, throwing a knowing glance around the room, "I suggest for those of you who haven't begun yet, that I will actually be reading the material, and repeating a friends work certainly will be noticed."

The third years bustled out of the room, girls throwing their teacher longing looks and boys curious glances as they left. Harry sat back in chair and pulled out a large stack of parchment from the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his quill and a bottle of bright red ink, he leaned lazily and pushed back his glasses. With a sigh he plopped his feet upon on the desk in front of him and set to work.

He was in the middle of trying to decipher whether a certain fifth year was trying to write _Unconceivable Curses _or _Inconvincible Nurses_ when he heard a light tap on his door.

He looked up, nervous about another student's arrival when he saw a very pretty woman with hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair smile at him.

"Emma!" he greet happily, willing throwing the papers aside and standing up. "It's so nice to see you."

Her cheeks warmed slightly as she stepped forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting you," she began in a shy voice.

"Certainly not," Harry assured her. "I wasn't doing anything important. It was just work."

"Oh!" Emma said, backing away. "I'm so sorry. I'll just go. I didn't mean to bother-"

"No, no," a half laugh burst from Harry's lips. "I was only kidding. You're a welcomed interruption. Sit please," he lowered his body back into his chair motioned for to occupy the one directly across from him.

She smiled in thanks. "Can I offer you a drink?" Harry inquired, pulling out his wand to conjure a tea tray. Emma nodded in acceptance and directed two sugars. Once their beverages were comfortably fixed they settled into a stiff, nervous silence.

"So." Emma began. "I just wanted to…thank you."

Harry's brow quirked in confusion. "Er….your welcome?"

Emma laughed then and the sound was like a young girl's giggle as it traveled lightly through the air. After a few seconds she stopped and arranged her face into a serious expression.

"I was referring to the help you gave my sister-Sarah-a few days ago."

_Ah_, Harry thought, realization greeting him. In his class a week or so ago they had been practicing defending against the impervious curse. Most of the students had been unsuccessful-as Harry predicted they would be-in throwing off the powerful curse. When he got to Sarah Dobbs he hadn't even pointed his wand when she suddenly began to shake and quiver, he eyes welling with tears. Harry, seeing the signs similar as to what his friend Neville Longbottom had once gone through during this trail, immediately stopped and redirected the lesson. Afterwards, he had Professor Longbottom come up and have a quick chat with his student.

Sarah left the room looking much more cheerful than she had entered it.

"Don't worry about it," Harry told her, waving his hand dismissively. He would have done the same for any student. "it's really Neville you should be thanking-he's the one that talked her down a little."

Emma's skin flushed again as she looked away, her eyes pointed at the floor stiffly. She bit her lips shyly, fiddling nervously with her hands that were placed gingerly in her lamp.

Harry, growing nervous and concerned for his new friend, was about to speak up but was interrupted before he could do so.

"It isn't Neville that I really…_want_ to be thanking, Harry." She glanced up shyly at him, peaking up under her lashes.

What?

Harry felt there was something he was supposed to understand by her look but he couldn't place it. Bloody hell, what he wouldn't give for Ron's copy of _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. He had never understood girls when he was younger-hence the lack of relationships through his Hogwarts career-and that hadn't seemed to change.

If only all women were as easy to understand as Ginny. With her, he hadn't had to worry about where he stood. When she had a crush on him, he knew it. When she had gotten over him, he was aware. And when they were dating, he knew.

Ginny wasn't one to hold back emotions, whether they be infatuation, or annoyance, or love, or anger.

Or indifference.

Harry could very obviously see that she was indifferent to him now.

But Emma didn't look _indifferent_. She seemed….the only word she could think of was _interested. _But in what? In him?

Emma was speaking again.

"I was wondering, Harry, if you wanted to go….you know….to dinner with me, in Hogsmeade or something of the sort…"

Harry couldn't speak-his mouth was hanging open widely. Was she asking him out on a date? He hadn't even considered Emma in that way, not really. He had notice that she was good looking, and obviously very nice. She was shy and charming. Certainly intelligent. Why shouldn't he see her in that way? He was a single and not-completely-unattractive hot blooded male. He knew that they probably wouldn't be able to progress to anything serious, but couldn't they date a little?

She was lovely and she might have…fancied him.

And he was tired on waiting. He loved Ginny, and he wanted her to be happy. And that meant letting her be happy with _someone else_.

Wasn't he allowed some happiness to?

"I'd love to." Harry interrupted her rant, smiling.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh," she blushed again and smiled. He grinned back. She truly _was_ quite pretty. "What time is good for you? Friday?"

Harry was about to say yes, but he was internally reminded that he had plans that day. Not exactly the greatest of plans, but still, he wasn't one to go back on his word. "Saturday instead?" he offered.

"That sounds great." she smiled and he told her he would see her later.

It was only a few seconds later that it actually registered in Harry's mind.

Bloody. Hell.

He was going on a date.

* * *

_Thump._

Harry looked at the red-head next to him, who sat a full head higher than himself and smirked. He hadn't seen his best friend look this nervous and ruffled since his wedding five years previously. Although he hadn't looked nearly as buggered off then.

"You're a prat." Ron told his best friend, not even bothering to turn his glare from the front door.

"Hmmm." Harry simply replied, waving politely to Rosmeta as she smiled at him from the bar.

_Thump_

The Three Broomsticks was bustling today, being that it was the first Hogsmeade trip of the years. Students were grouped together around tables, some chatting and a fair number of other hidden in corners, snogging to their heart's content. Harry firmly ignored these students, as he looked around. At the bar Harry could see Kinston Walker and Peter Skeeter sitting side by side, who looked to be in heated conversation. Harry, curious as to why the normally close friends suddenly looked to be bickering. Before he could begin to stand-to determine what had caused their intense quarreling, he was distracted by the violent shaking of his table.

_Thump._

Annoyed, he turned toward his own friend and place one strong hand on the table, raising his eyebrow in question. "I thought I had stop babysitting this afternoon?"

Ron scowled and turned his icy glare back towards the door. "I can't believe we're meeting _Malfoy_. You do remember him, don't you? Sneering, blubbering, blonde git?"

"I told you, Ron, he didn't seem nearly as…bad as last time we saw him."

Ron swiveled around to glance at him, his lips drawn in a hard line. "Once a prat, Potter, always a prat."

Harry laughed loudly at the use of his surname, and was about to comment on it, but was interrupted by a sort, nervous voice.

"Sorry I was running late-had to meet up with Morgana to get her robes fixed. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. The next round on me, then?"

Harry looked up to see the smiling face of Draco Malfoy, his hands stuffed nervously in his pockets.

Harry rose up on his feet to greet his old enemy, holding his hand out to shake Malfoy's. Ron did not move.

When their new companion had sat and was holding his own bottle of butterbeer, Harry set about to diffuse the awkward silence before it could begin. "Weather's a bit peckey for this time of year, isn't it?" He asked no one in particular, referring to the bitter cold that had surrounded the castle for several days.

"Yeah," Malfoy agreed, taking a nervous sip of his drink. "It's causing quite some problems with business actually-yesterday three owls weren't able to deliver the post because it was too bloody cold for them."

"Where do you work?" Harry inquired, his expression one of honest curiosity.

Malfoy blushed lightly, his pale skin flushing with embarrassment.

Ron cast a single glare in his direction before "harrumphing" and turning toward the door. Harry shot a warning look at his friend before offering their guest his complete attention once again.

"I'm…I'm a journalist actually-for the Prophet. The features section."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Despite the fact that his public reputation was the best it had been since he was a toddler, he was still weary of the post-and _The Daily Prophet _in particular.

Malfoy was still speaking, his words echoing a bit like nervous rambling. "I'm actually going to have to leave here soon to go over to the Cannon's pitch to do an interview with their new seeker."

A loud _crash_ of cracking glass echoed through the wide bar. Ron, flushing at the scene he had creating. As light laughter filled the hall, aimed in his direction, he cast a charm to clean up the mess and turned to Malfoy, looking at him with awe.

"Your meeting Roger Quidies for an interview later? That's-I mean-_Quidies_?"

Malfoy laughed, loud and genuine. "I take it you're a cannon's fan then?

Harry sorted. "Fan? I'd bet a month's salary he'd leave Hermione in a minute if one of the Cannon's proposed. He's been obsessed for as long as I've known him."

Ron's ears now turning a shade classified as "strawberry red", tossed a handful of peanuts at Harry. "Sod of, you wanker." He muttered lowly.

Harry only chuckled in response.

"Well," said an amused Malfoy, "If you like, Ron, you could tag along. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought a guest along."

Ron, whose face had once again returned to it's natural coloring, looked at his old enemy as though he might kiss him. "Really? I mean-yeah? Could you do that? I'm not -I'm not _busy_ or anything."

Malfoy with a slight grin on his face, glanced down at his pocket watch. "Well if you two are tagging along, we'll have to stop by my office to grab a couple press passes…we should leave now, I think."

"Sorry," Harry interrupted at once. "I can't-lots of papers to grade, things to do. You two go ahead."

"Fantastic!" Ron grinned. "I'll pick up the tab!" He ran off toward the bar, quickly pulling several gallons from his pocket.

Malfoy and Harry stood, both pulling on their heavy winter coats and scarves.

"How is Morgan-Morgana-doing in her studies?" He questioned as they waited.

"Brilliantly."

Ron appeared then and gave a few rushed goodbyes to his best friend, dragging Malfoy out by the arm.

"Just before they apperated away, Malfoy nodded and said to his companion, "Watch out for my sister, will you, Harry?"

Grinning, he had replied, "Like she were my own, Draco."

A snap sounded throughout the air.

Shacking his head to himself, Harry exited the bar and moved down the street, heading back towards Hogwarts. He passed by many students each walking at a brisk pace to readily escape the harsh October chill.

As he was walking past one of the last quaint Hogsmeade shops, however, his attention was directed towards a small group of slytherin boys were standing by themselves. A few of their faces, Harry noticed, were drawn up in fear and shock. When the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher approached, growing nervous that they might be up to something dangerous, he heard a wild shriek resound from them. Alarmed, he ran forward.

The group dissolved at once as their teacher stood beside them, forming a loose circle as one of their companion, a dark haired boy Harry recognized as a first year named Marty McLinings.

The small eleven year old boy was on the cold ground, his body thrashing and high shrieks of pain pouring from his slim frame. His dark skin was flushed and reddened, his eyes clasped tightly shut.

Harry dropped to his knees immediately, restraining the boys form in hope of keeping him from injuring himself. "Go!" He barked out loudly at the other boys still loitering around him. "Get the Headmisstriss! Now!"

They ran off towards the castle, panic in their furious steps.

Harry stood, letting go of the boy and cast a spell, tying the flailing limbs together and magically hoisting him up high in the air. He began to march quickly toward the castle, all the while his cries echoing around him. When at last he walked through the front door of the school, he went immediately to his office.

He burst open to the door to find MacGonagall already waiting there, worry deep in her cold gaze. Harry placed the boy on the table.

"What happened?" the Headmisstriss demanded as Harry began to look him over.

"I don't know, I was passing by when I heard him." His emerald gaze fell to the boys wrists, when it appeared he was trying to tear his own skin off. On his wrist was a small band, thick and looked at though it were made of dragon hide. It was very dark, and the letters imprinted upon it were of a language Harry did not know.

Minerva noticed Harry's gaze as she struggled to pin the withering boy.

"What is it?" she gasped out.

"I don't know…" Harry muttered. "But I would bet it's nothing good." Harry did not reach out to touch the band, as most would. Many experiences in his life had taught him _never _to touch something if you didn't know exactly what it was.

He brought out his wand and hovered it over the band. With one muttered word the thick skin cracked and sizzled, falling apart as though it were being burned from the inside. The bracelet fell limply to the desk, completely off the boys skin. It sat, appearing as unthreatening as ever.

As soon as the thick material fell from his wrist the boy stopped thrashing, his body immediately falling limp upon Harry's desk.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out to touch the band. His eyes sparked at the image, a familiar memory striking up beneath him.

"Fuck." he breathed out, dropping the poisonous fabric.

"What is it?" MacGonagall asked rapidly.

"An attack."


	8. Dating with Dilemmas

Dating and Dilemmas

Chapter 8

Along the worn and well-travel pathway that led down from the gates of the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry to the small tourist town of Hogsmeade, two people walked beside each other during a surprisingly warm October evening. The man was reasonably tall and very slim, though his form looked as if he remained more than fit. His black hair sat upon his head in a completely wild pattern and fell into his startling emerald eyes. His companion, in comparison, was just an inch or too shorter, and her hair was shoulder length and a darker blonde. Her hazel eyes seemed almost green as the stared into the stolen starlight above them.

The man, who was known by many people, was not looking at his date. His eyes were very far away from the pretty woman next to him, and his normally handsome face was fixed into an uncomfortable frown. The body language between the couple showed no hint of affection or romance. The girl-A Miss Emma Dobbs-however, took no notice of the large amount of distance her date was placing between them. Her smile was large and white. She was speaking, and as she spoke, her eyes danced with joy.

Harry Potter couldn't bring himself to listen to Emma anymore.

It was clear that, as the evening wore on, he would have a hard time doing so. The normally quiet and shy girl that Harry had looked forward to spending a simple dinner with had disappeared early in the night-almost immediately upon sitting down. She rushed into a story about when she had first remembered seeing Harry in her second year. She spoke of how brave he was, how noble, how daring, how charming, how-

The list continued for some time.

It seems all Emma _did_ want to talk about was Harry, and he himself couldn't get a word in edge wise.

After a few minutes, Harry couldn't bear to keep hearing about how _wonderful _and _splendid_ he was, and so he let his mind wander to more important things.

Tha attack at Hogwarts.

The first year who was attacked-Marty McLininings-had been poisoned, and not only poisoned, but poisoned by a type of venom that Harry had only seen once , and personally knew of how fast and painfully killed.

Basilisk venom.

It had been dipped and magically bound into the small wrist band the boy wore. When Harry and the headmistress had inquired to the young boy's friends where he had gotten, they said it had been a gift delivered to the dormitory for him-personally. No signature had been on the package.

The Headmistress had also questioned the boys on whether they knew anyone who would have wanted to hurt or injure Mr. McLininings. They had laughed. Apparently, the young man was bit of a prat, and disliked by many. From what Harry had gathered, this boy was known to be the "leader" of a small gang of Slytherin first year boys. A young Draco Malfoy, perhaps.

The list of suspect who would wish to hurt him was apparently miles long, and McGonagall seemed ready to place this poisoning on some kind of a student prank. Still, Harry wasn't convinced.

How would of a student-likely a first year-get Basilisk venom? The Chamber of Secrets had been sealed for years now, even to Parselmouths like Harry. And the only other place one could find it would be the Black Magical Market, and even then, it would be more then a few gallouns in price. And not to mention, that Harry had met very few students that would be willing to _kill_ another, and there seemed no purpose here.

Harry was trying to keep his eyes open lately, monitoring the students the best he could-searching for anyone who seemed capable of killing. So far, he found nothing out of the ordinary.

Except, of course, for the poor boy that was still in St. Mongos-only recently having gained consciousness.

"Harry?"

Harry's head turned rapidly to the side, Emma's smiling face filling his vision. He quickly adjusted his expression to fit hers, feeling guilty about not having paid her much attention so far.

"Hm?" He questioned, forcing the smile to stay firmly on his face.

"I was asking what it was like-facing a younger You-Know-Who, when you were a second year? In the chamber?" she questioned, as though he had forgotten. "I've read a few books on the subject-on what he was like then-and I was just wondering what it was like to you. After all, you certainly are brave enough to face the older one, surely it can't be that bad?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. More talk of Voldemort, and of Harry being "oh-so-brave". Still, he felt that he should try to engage in conversation with his..._date_, at least a little. He agreed to go with her, and it would be rude to completely ignore Emma.

"He was...much the same," Harry began, wondering how to begin describing a person like Tom Riddle. "But, different. He was handsome, and charismatic. Charming." He went on, his mind traveling back to Tom Riddle's image in Dumbledore's pensive. He looked over at Emma, surprised to see how intensely she was watching him-seeming interested in what he had to say, for the first time. "He had a way of..._persuading_ people into doing what he wanted, without many people really seeing how evil he was."

"Was it true that he was an heir of Slytherin?"

"Yes, actually," Harry responded, taken aback by her knowledge. That fact was not commonly known.

She gave a small, half-smile. "I guess he wasn't likely to be put in any other house then, was he?"

Harry gave a small, humorless chuckle.

"No. Not really."

Emma looked curious, her face almost too open." What do you mean by...handsome? Its hard to think of someone so evil and cruel being the least bit dashing. What did he look like as a boy?"

"I can't remember all that well," Harry lied, knowing the image would always be ingrained into his memory.

"Nothing at all?"

"Well..." he closed his eyes, inhaling. He wished desperately she would drop the subject. Voldemort was dead. Couldn't Harry's life be disconnected from that monster's in _some_ way? "He was tall. Dark hair, and dark eyes... but I really remember his laugh."

"What about it?" she asked, their feet stopping as they neared the castle, her body leaning in towards his.

"It was...cold. It was a cold, deep laugh that seemed to echo everywhere, even when you were the only one in the room. It had a talent for staying in your head, and filling your entire mind."

Harry blink, shutting his mouth. He couldn't entirely believe that had come from his own voice. Still, the thought of Tom Riddle's haunting laugh lingered in Harry's thoughts...something nagging at the surface of his consciousness...

"I suppose he was a leader then, among all of the other students? Bossing everyone around, threatening them?"

Harry paused to consider as they began to move forward again.

"Yes, in a way, but also no. He wasn't obvious about having power as a child. It was better to be quiet about it, and to keep things stealthy."

"Stealthy?" Emma repeated, sounding incredulous. "It just always seems odd to be, when I think of a child Voldemort. But, I suppose the roots of evil have to begin somewhere. It just goes to show you-even a dementor has to be born somehow."

"Mhhm."

They settled into silence, for the first time that evening.

Not soon, enough, they reached the front door of the Castle. Emma stopped, turning towards Harry and opening her hazel eyes widely. Harry swallowed. He was sure what she was expecting him to do now-but one thing was obvious; Emma Dobbs was not meant for Harry Potter.

"Listen, Emma," he started in a soft, apologetic tone.

She was smiling gently now, her face looking almost resigned. "Its fine, Harry. I know."

"You know?" He choked out, unsure if they were referring to the same thing.

"Yes. There's someone else, isn't there? Another girl?"

"I-" He stopped.

They stared at one another for a moment.

_No. _He told himself. _Ginny was in no way part of this decision. Even if he did love her and miss her, and might have just been thinking about the way her hair would have looked in the moonlight if she stood here instead, and how she wouldn't have questioned him endlessly and-_

"Do you love her?"

"I-"

_Why does that even matter at the moment?_

Emma simply smiled again,. But she let the subject drop. Quickly, she stepped forward and laid a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek, and then moved back to put a friendly distance between them. "Its alright, really," she told him as she saw the guilt cross over his features. 'I'm not heartbroken. At least I got one night with a hero, right?" she smiled sincerely at him. Then her pretty face grew serious. 'I just want you to know Harry, that I really respect you. And I want to thank you for everything you've done-for everybody. I only hope to be able to do for the world half as much as you have."

And with those final words as a good-bye, Emma turned and pushed open the heavy doors, walked into the grand school and strode down the hall, the opposite direction from Harry's path.

* * *

"Please, _please,_ please, please, _please_, please, _ple-"_

"Fine! Fine!" Harry finally gave in, his temple thumping beneath his finger tips.

Harry loved Teddy. Really, he did. Teddy Tonks was such a smart, brave, honest little boy, and Harry knew that he very rarely meant to displease anyone. Still, though, he was only eight years old, and _every_ eight year old little boy could get terribly annoying at times.

Teddy was completely and utterly desperate to eat dinner in the great hall, with Harry and the rest of the students. Harry had been holding him off so far, having him eat with Kreature, or going with Hermione to eat with the Weasley's, but he obviously wasn't going to be able to hold him back any longer.

Professor McGonagall had given Harry the "okay" as permission to have Ted eat at the teachers' table, but still, Harry was hesitant.

Harry wanted Teddy to have completely _normal_ schooling experience, just as everyone else did, when he entered Hogwarts. Obviously with Harry's teaching job, and Teddy living here full time before he was eleven, that wasn't going to happen. But still, having such a small boy know what it is like to sit up high with the adults might put him in isolation among his future peers, and that was the last thing Harry wanted for his godson.

Still, Harry gave his promise that morning, telling Teddy he would be eating in the Great Hall that night, and he received a loud _"oh, Thank you, Harry_!" in return before dropping him off in the library.

Now it was Harry's lunch break, and it was this problem that he was in the middle of mulling over in his head when a voice popped in his door.

"Professor Potter?"

Harry looked up, seeing a young female figure through the web of black hair that hung down in his eyes. Brushing his unfortunate bangs out of the way of his vision, Harry was able to clearly identify the young lady as Miss Gordon, his fifth year student.

Harry smiled. Miss Patricia Gordon reminded Harry quite a bit of Hermione Granger, back in his Hogwarts days. She was ambitious and very quick witted, while still maintaining respectfulness towards each of her teachers. She was also, Harry noted to himself, one of the few of his older female students who he didn't have to worry about making...unwanted advances toward him.

"What can I help you with, Miss Gordon?' He inquired, motioning for her to have a seat across from him at his desk.

She gave him a quick smile and then reached down to pull out a thick roll of parchment.

"I hope you don't mind," she began, unrolling the covered paper. "But I need a bit of your help, with a History of Magic essay."

"Oh?" Harry almost laughed out loud. "I'd love to, of course, but I'm afraid I was always pathetically miserable at that subject. You can ask Professor Binns if you don't believe me." He grinned at her.

'Oh, no" she began, "really I just need you're permission."

"On what?" He wondered, curious.

"On whether it would be alright to use you in my paper? Its an essay on the rise and fall of dark wizards, and I thought it would be best to ask before I just began quoting you."

"Oh." Harry said, shocked slightly. Even after so many years of fame and name recognition, it still threw him to hear or see his name mentioned in books and papers. "I...well," he stuttered for a moment, his decision wavering to and fro. Finally, as Miss Gordon's face continued to look hopeful and excited, he conceded, sighing, "Yes, it's perfectly alright."

She gave her professor another kind smile, although for the first time since the young girl had walked in the room, Harry noticed it looked a little forced and, quiet honestly, sad. Approaching the subject gently, the older gentleman man asked, "Is everything going well for you, Miss Gordon?"

"Oh, yes, Professor. I'm just fine."

Her eyes belied her words.

"Are you sure, Patricia?" he pushed hesitantly, "You know I'm here for any help you might need-any help any one of my students might need."

Miss Gordon opened her mouth again, most likely to object, but stopped halfway and the words never left her mouth. Finally, after a swallow and a nervous lip bit, she replied, "You probably wouldn't want to concern yourself with my trivial issues, Professor."

Harry gave her another sincere grin. "Something that troubling you could never be trivial." He stood up, turning around to the small table behind his desk, and offered "Tea?"

She nodded. "Please."

As Harry prepared the two drinks-manually this time, choosing to only us his wand to warm the water up-his mind flashed back to when it was him in Miss Gordon's place, speaking to a teacher who would soon become a great friend.

_"I've been feeling a bit off-color. This potion is the only thing that helps." _Remus Lupin had said, as he sat where Harry now sat, drinking what Harry knew was a vile goblet of Wolfsbane potion. Harry could remember quite clearly how much Lupin had calmed his own fears that day, and hoped he would be able to do the same for Patricia-clever, sweet girl that she was.

Harry sat back down, and passed said young lady her piping hot cup of tea.

Harry said nothing as they drank, letting the pregnant silence fill the air between them as he looked encouragingly at her as he could.

"It's about a boy." She finally spoke, her short and messy hair doing nothing to cover her flushing face as she looked downwards in embarrassment.

"Oh." Harry replied, looking a bit taken a back by the subject at hand. He hadn't expected the conversation to go this direction. Just as he had begun to gather his wits and ask a follow up inquiry, Miss Gordon had begun to speak again. Or rater, to shout and flail quite extravagantly.

"We were really, really good friends for a long time, you know. I mean, he was always so sweet and nice and kind to me, when we were together. And then he started hanging around other people at the end of last year, and acting like a right prat. I can't _stand_ him any longer! And I know he's not a bad person, because I really, truly _know _him." She took a deep breath, and then plunged onwards. "But he just won't stop acting like such a right git! And what's worse, before he starting spending so much time with those morons, we were...I thought we might have been...might have became more than friends..."

Another deep breath. Harry could see just the beginning of tears welling up in her eyes.

As her rant ended, another bout of silence embedded itself in the large office.

"Patricia," Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "I can tell you, as a former teenage boy, that we're all..." he paused. "We're all idiots, honestly. We do stupid, pratish things, and often don't realize how our actions effect everyone. Have you told this...young man, how you are feeling?"

Miss Gordon shook her head, still refuses to make eye contact with her mentor.

"Most likely, he's probably completely oblivious to how you're doing. If I were you, Miss Gordon, the first thing I would do is talk to him. But again," he gave her a mischievous grin. "We teenage boys don't ever really grow out of our moronic stage."

She laughed lightly, though it was clear how uncomfortable she still was. Finally, she sighed and said. "Yes, Professor. I suppose you're right. I'm not handling this very...rationally, which isn't at all like me." A pained smile. "Still, thank you for everything. Is there is anything I can do for you?"

Harry was just about to say a quick, "No," when suddenly an idea occurred to him." Actually," he said. "Yes. You see, my god son-"

"Teddy." Miss Gordon interrupted.

Harry smiled, holding back a chuckle. It would never cease to surprise him, how quickly information traveled around Hogwarts.

"Yes. You see, I told him he could eat dinner in the Great Hall tonight, but I'm not really sure if he should be sitting up with the teachers..."he let his voice trail suggestively off.

"Oh!" Miss Gordon said excitedly. "He should sit at the Gryffindor table-my friends would just love him. I've heard he's adorable."

Harry laughed, heartily this time. "I'm sure he'd tell you so too. Should I just send him your way during dinner?"

She grinned. "Absolutely."

"Thank you so much, Patricia."

Miss Gordon stood up, collecting back up her parchment and turning towards the door, just be for she stepped out, however, she turned and said, "No, problem, Professor. Though there is one thing," a playful eyebrow rose. "You can call me Patty."

* * *

"Kinston."

The fifteen year old boy shivered slightly, as the unmistakable voice seemed to creep towards him like a mist. He could feel the presence of Teacher behind him, the way the body seemed to hold only cold and tension.

"Y...yesss, T...Teacher?" he stuttered out, his voice weak and afraid. The forest was seeming to close in around him, his breaths coming in close, frantic pants.

"You have done wrong. You have failed me-drawn attention to our mention. You know that is wrong."

"I..I know, Teacher. I'm sorry."

A stiff hand scraped across his shoulder. "I understand, Kinston. You have made a mistake. Everyone but the Master makes them. Next time, though..." the metallic voice hung in the air, the unspoken threat perfectly understood.

"Has the other joined in The Cause yet? He would make a grand friend-a grand fighter for The Cause?"

"Y..yes." Kinston, stammered, relieved that he could finally deliver a good message. "He has joined. He wanted to come tonight...but I told him to wait."

"That is good. You are my favorite Kinston." A short pause. "I have something for you-new information. Use it wisely, my student." A small piece of parchment was slipped into the boys hand, as it dangled lightly by his side.

The voice started to fade away, and yet the boy did not turn-paralyzed in his fear.

"But do not fail me again, Kinston."


	9. Quandaries after Quidditch

Quandaries after Quidditch

Chapter 9

The small classroom was perhaps the most awkward setting Harry Potter had ever been in. And, considering his unfortunate habit of being locked in rooms with people who wanted to do him in most often, that was certainly saying something. Beside him, he could feel the heat of Hermione's body as she was leaning forward, scribbling madly on a piece of parchment. Her quill looked on the verge of snapping in half, with all of the force she was placing behind it.

Several people to his left, however, Harry could feel the air of awkwardness radiating off of Emma.

Since the week had gone by, Harry had been doing everything in his power to avoid his one-date partner. He ducked down unknown hallways, hid behind suits of armors, even going so far as to arrive to his classes late.

It felt like his sixth year all over again.

In contrast to all of the fan-girls constantly stalking his every move, however, it seemed that Emma was just as pleased to avoid Harry as he was to avoid her.

He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse, honestly.

Harry attempted to focus on what the Headmistress was saying-she _did _seem to take staff meetings rather seriously.

"…and furthermore, Mr. Filch requests that all the names of students caught with possession of-or using, obviously-Dougbombs should be reported directly to him."

McGonagall's voice remained completely serious, as did Hermione's expression, although Harry could see that more than one of the other teachers exchanged amused glances. Neville chuckled slightly, turning it into a cough when Hermione elbowed him less than gently.

The Headmistress continued to speak and at the sight of Hermione's glare, Harry diligently turned forward.

"And, as some of you are already aware, this is scouting season for professional Quidditch teams. Because of this, I'm sure that respective from these teams, as well as from the Ministry, will be showing up at Hogwarts to interview our older students. Please be gracious and polite to our guests, and see that their presence does not deserve our day-to-day lessons."

McGonagall looked back to the long roll of parchment in her hand, her narrow and focused eyes scanning across the page. Her mouth curled up slightly at the edges, in what Harry guessed was relief. "Unless anyone else has something to add-"

Harry-more than ready to be out of this staff meeting and away from the tense air of awkwardness that surrounded him-was already beginning to stand so he could leave. He groaned loudly when he saw Zabini rise, his normally snide expression set determinedly.

"I do." He turned to address the room, and as he did so Harry saw Hermione's lips twitch unhappily.

"Some of the ingredients in my supply cupboard have gone missing-my own _personal _supplies. Things that no student here should use _without proper instruction_."

Suddenly, Harry's ears perked up.

Could Zabini have had Basilisk venom?

McGonagall did not seem to have made the connection, and instead appeared as thoroughly disinterested as she had moments before. "Such as, Blaise?"

Though the former Slytherin bristled slightly at the use of his first name, there was not even a second of hesitation as he pulled out his wand, flamboyantly conjuring a scroll into the air, and began reading off of it, his voice growing more irritated every second.

Harry took no notice of any of the potion ingredients mentioned -for most of them, to his knowledge-we completely harmless. Until he heard both the words "Euphoiates" and "Tongue of Mockingjay" among the other numerous items.

The ingredients sparked something deep in his memory….something important.

But before he could reach out and grasp the loosely hanging memory, Luna decided to jump into the conversation, intending to be helpful.

"Do you happen to have any onion or old cabbage near your office, Blaise? Because the strong smells of those can often attract Blabbering Humdingers-who are, of course, well known for their thieving."

She gave a kind, yet still absent minded smile at her scowling team mate. Harry saw Neville scowl back at the displeased potion's teacher, grabbing his wife's hand tightly in protection.

"Of course I don't-" Zabini began to snap, but was interrupted as Hermione cleared in throat. The noise reminded Harry eerily of Dolores Umbridge-he shivered.

"Well if that's everything, I suppose we should get going then?"

Zabini hastily exited the room, his scowl leading the way. After his brisk walk out of the classroom, other teachers began slowly filtering themselves.

"He seems in an awfully bad mood today," Luna said dreamily as she, Hermione, Neville and Harry exit the classroom together. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"Don't worry about him, Lu," Neville says in a soothing tone, brushing a long strand of blonde hair out of her face. "He's a just an unpleasant git."

"Neville!" Hermione said sharply, her tone torn between chastising and amused. "He's a respected co-worker." She decided, her chin help high.

Harry nearly laughed out loud.

He had noticed, since taking this job, that Hermione took her position of Head of Gryffindor House about the same as she had taken Prefect in her fifth year. She was ten times more overbearing than Neville-the Deputy Headmaster. Harry thought to comment that plenty of teachers could be pricks, but stopped, not wishing to face his friend's wrath.

As Neville and Luna headed up to bed, and Hermione left to floo home, Harry found himself wandering the dark Hogwarts corridor in solitude.

It was when he moved down to the first floor, exiting his classroom where he had abandoned the papers he had to grade earlier, when he heard them. The noise was very soft at first, and anyone without Harry's Auror trained hearing and instinct might not have hear it. Filled with curiosity as to why students would be out of bed so far after curfew, he turned around, headed toward the sound.

It grew louder as Harry rounded several corners, until he could make out the source as voices. Soon, he could even recognize one of them: Miss Patricia Gordon. Her voice was higher pitched than normal, almost hysterical. His ears no longer had to strain to understand her words.

"…a good idea? Its not! It's a horrible, awful idea! People will get hurt!"

."No ones going to get hurt!" Another voice chimed in, lower pitched and obviously male. "At least, no one that shouldn't."

"Why are you _doing_ this, Peter? You wouldn't have done this last year. You wouldn't have _been _like this before. What happened to my…my _friend_?"

Harry moved a little faster, anticipating the hexes that the capable Miss Gordon would soon throw.

The arguing continued.

"Last year I didn't care about what was important. Isn't that what you're always going on about? _Doing _something. This is me-doing something."

"You don't understand, Patty. " A third voiced chimed in, breathing heavily. " Why don't you just come with us tomorrow night? Teacher would-"

"_I'm not going anywhere near that monster!"_

As that near screech left her mouth, Harry finally rounded the last corner.

Positioned in the middle of the corridor, Patricia Gordon stood, her small body tensed tightly and wand drawn. Her expression was one of both dread and fury. In front of her Peter Skeeter, was leaning forward, his hand extended outwards as if to touch her hair or cheek. Walker Kinston held tightly to his waist, pulling him backwards.

Harry remained unnoticed.

Patricia huffed angrily, and then her voice grew colder tougher. She lowered her wand slowly. "And don't even _think_" a pregnant pause for effect "that I'm going to help you _steal_ anything again. I'm through with you, Peter. _Through._"

Harry was startled by the news of theft. His mind immediately flashed back to missing ingredients from the potions cabinet.

"Excuse me, Miss Gordon?"

All three students jumped violently at the sound of their Professor's voice. Peter and Walker broke apart hastily.

The expression that painted their young faces ranged from Walker's terrified look of horror, to Peter's angry and smug smirk. "What," Harry began, drawling forward his best authoritative tone, "are you three doing up so late?"

"Noth-nothing, P-professor." Kinston spit out hastily. "We were just, that is to say we were…Peter and I had decided-we had found it-"

Harry held up his hand, silencing the boy.

"Miss Gordon?" he repeated, softening his voice as he saw face contort into a look of shame. "Would like to tell me what you and your classmates were doing out of bed well past curfew?"

Patty opened her mouth slightly and then stopped. Her eyes glanced nervously at Skeeter. From the very edge of his sight, Harry saw the boy give a quick shake of his head. '

Patty took a deep breath and kept her eyes down, focused intently on the floor beneath her.

"No. No I wouldn't, Sir."

Harry frowned., disappointment coursing through him. Miss Gordon was such a smart, sensible girl. He didn't like to have to punish her-but this went beyond a simple detention. He didn't want her future ruined, just because she choose the wrong friends. And it was starting to seem to him that these boys were indeed _wrong_.

Harry minded repeatedly jumped back to the phrase_ "people will get hurt"_.

Did this have anything to do with the Basilisk poisoning? Were people _already_ getting hurt?

Peter Skeeter finally seemed to reach his threshold of patience. "Are you going to give us detention, or what?" he snapped out, his fists clenching by his side.

Harry gave the boy a cold glare of indifference, and what internally please to see him shrink back slightly.

"An excellent idea, Mr. Skeeter. The three of you can report to my office next Tuesday night at eight o'clock. And," he again shifted his look to the most insolent of the three, "just to further please Mr. Skeeter, I will also take ten points from each of you. Now go to bed. Immediately."

The two boys -Skeeter shooting him a deep glare-scurried off at once in silence, their rapid footsteps now the only sound in the wide hallway. Patricia had yet to move.

She looked up, her expression guilty and took a small step towards her favorite teacher.

"Professor, I'm so -" he voice died.

Harry could see the desperation and sadness etched on her face. Some would say that she was too young for such worry, but Harry knew better. He could once recall Dumbledore saying-during the very end of his fifth year, that he had been afraid to tell Harry all knew, because of his youth, that he _cared too much _for him. Harry seemed to feel that same fatherly affection for Patty. He didn't want her loosing her youth to sadness, as he had lost much of his.

"Are you _sure_ you don't have anything you need to tell me, Patty?" Harry pushed, letting his tone turn kind now. "If people…if its important, I need to know."

Again, her gaze fell to the floor.

"No, Professor. I don't…I don't know anything."

The lie was unmistakable.

Harry straightened again. "Very well. Off to bed, then,"

"Yes, Sir."

Harry frowned as she scurried around the corner, headed toward Gryffendor tower.

She was hiding something.

It was almost a week later-a Friday afternoon-that Harry found himself finally looking forward to spending some time with his Godson. Understandably, Harry hadn't seen much of Teddy beyond dinner (which he spent with the older students) and dropping him off near the library each morning. But now he would get to spend an entire afternoon and evening with him, and bringing Teddy to what would be -hopefully- a mile stone.

His first Quidditch match.

Today was the first match of the season and it was already said to be a good one. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and tension between the two house was palpable after weeks of anticipation.

"Are you going to play?" Teddy asked wonderingly, tugging on his Godfather's hand as they walked toward the pitch.

Harry laughed, looking down at his brightly colored Godson. He had chosen-in order to celebrate the match to color every bit of him in scarlet and emerald. The effect made him resemble a sunburned leprechaun.

"No, I'm a teacher-we don't play."

His small brow furrowed. "But I thought that you're a seeker. Uncle Ron said so."

Harry ruffled the mangy head of emerald hair. "I _was_ a seeker, but I don't play anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because now I've got you to take of. And I wasn't that good anyway."

"You're a rotten liar, Potter."

Both Harry and Teddy stopped moving-their shows sinking slightly in the soft grass beneath them-and turned to see the owner of that very familiar voice.

Teddy let out a yelp of excitement and immediately let go of Harry's hand, rushing through the crowd of traveling audience members to greet their visitor. Harry stood motionless, feeling the shock run through his body, finally resting near the pit of his stomach. He felt oddly nauseous.

Ginny crouched down just in time of Ted's small body to slam into her with enough force to knock them both backward into a large pit of mud. Their giggles were loud as they danced through the air and Harry felt his lips curl up into a smile all on their own .

"Alright! Alright!" Ginny gasped out, gently moving the laughing boy off her and sitting up. Her red hair was now caked in dirt.

"Harry!" She greeted as she stood. Quickly gaining his senses, Harry rushed over, offering his hand. She used his grip to pull herself up.

"Its so nice to see you both!" she said, releasing his hand. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists several times, noticing the way his skin tingled from her touch. It was always done that, he remembered.

He suspected it always would.

"You too, Aunt Gin!" Teddy said, grabbing the hand Harry had just lost possesion of.

The youngest Weasly looked down at the small Lupin boy and gasped with mock horrer, her mug splattered hands smacking with a loud _splat_ against her flushed cheeks. "My!" She half shouted, making a show of looking Teddy over. "You, Mr. Lupin, look _very handsome _today. How is it that you get so much bigger every time I see you? You'll be as tall as Hagrid soon!"

Teddy grinner proudly and informed her that he was already taller than Victorie-Bill's daughter.

"And me!" Ginny said as she caught a glimpse of her dirty limbs. "I must look a fright."

"I think you look pretty, Gin!" Teddy responded, as enamored as ever with the beautiful redhead.

"Me too," Harry noted quietly, the words escaping him before he could help it.

They both blushed lightly as she met Harry's appraising eye.

"Just give me a minute…" she pulled her wand out, performing a quick charm that instantly removed the muck from her person. "Much better," she declared.

"Not me!" Teddy semi-screeched as she began to do the same to the laughing little boy. "I want to stay dirty."

Both Ginny and Harry chuckled as she placed her wand back in her pocket. "As you wish."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked finally, motioning for them to continue onto the match. "For the game?"

"Yes, actually," her now clean scarlet hair bobbed as she nodded, "I'm here from the Ministry, to see how the scouting is going on a couple of seventh years." she frowned, looking over at him. "I thought they were supposed to let all the teachers know I was going to be popping in every so often."

"They did," Harry was quick to reassure her. "I just didn't know it was going to be…" he swallowed. "You."

Her glance was teasing. "Is that going to be a problem?"

He did his best to grin normally at her. "Absolutely."

They laughed together.

Inside, Harry's mind was reeling. Ginny was here. _With him_/ Well, with him and Teds,

anyway. And if her was mistaken was she…_flirting_ with him? No. Harry decided, that couldn't be it. He was deluded as usual. Should he ask her to sit with them? Would it be rude if he didn't? Would she consider this a date? Did _he_ consider this a date? Did he want it to be? Of course he did-that was obvious. But…_did she_?

"You'll sit with us, right Aunt Ginny?" Teddy demanded her attention, tugging on her arm as they entered the pitch.

"Of course I am."

And with that so easily taken care, they made their way up through the stands. Ginny went first, leading little Teddy by the hand, so that when they sat he was squished between the two adults. Harry wasn't sure whether to be grateful of furious.

As they settled comfortable in their seats, Teddy's constant curiosity once again made itself known. He tugged impatiently on the sleeve of Ginny's robe. "Gin, what did you mean when you said Harry was a liar?"

Ginny laughed heartily as Harry's skin blushed slightly.

"Harry was the best seeker that Hogwarts ever had!" she declared, flashing him a teasing grin. "Better even than my brother Charlie."

"He was?" Ted's voice held a tone of wonder and disbelief.

Ginny nodded adamantly. "He was brilliant. And he was my captain too, you know. In my fifth year."

Her eyes glanced up, and their gazes locked. Harry felt weak and dazed as he thought of _what else_ happened that year. The best year of his life. He watched as understanding filled Ginny's glance and heat flooded her cheeks.

They both turned away. Harry saw Ted's face pucker slightly in confusion at their exchange, but luckily the match began just as his mouth opened to ask, what Harry was sure to be an embarrassing question.

The match was as good as Harry had hoped for Ted's first. The intense rivalry between the houses sparked plenty of rough and semi-illegal moves, as well as an animated crowd. It went on for hours, each side never budging an inch. The goals were frequent and impressive, as well as the penalty shots. In the end, it was a Slytherin win four hundred to three hundred-and-fifty.

Harry-as a teacher-did his best to remain impartial as he cheered.

"Who were you looking at?" Harry asked Ginny as they all began walking into the castle, the sky darkening around them.

"The seventh year Jeffery Johnson-the Gryffindor Keeper. Puddlemere United was thinking of scouting him. Not that I told you that." She cast him a glare of mock severity. Harry saluted her in return.

Teddy was slumped against Ginny's side as they walked forward, his eyes dropping heavily. Harry chuckled, stopping to kneel down and face his godson.

"You getting tired, Teddy?" He questioned, brushing a strand of hair fondly from his forehead.

The head of emerald hair shook tiredly. Both Harry and Ginny laughed at that, their voices creating a soft harmony in the flowing breeze. He looked up at her and they shared a gentle smile.

Harry felt the knot in his stomach tighten again and then fly into his throat, choking him. He was having trouble breathing as he took in the look of her: disheveled hair swirling around her head in the wind, her face glowing and flushed with the excitement of the day, her brown eyes getting impossibly deeper and deeper as he stared into them. He felt his smile begin to drop at the same moment hers did.

The moment was broken as Teddy yawned loudly, sending a mouthful of breath straight into Harry's face.

With one last amused smile, Harry lifted Ted easily into his arms, cradling him into his chest. "I think it's an early bed-time for you, hmm Teds?"

Teddy yawn widely again. "But I'm not tire' yet Harry." he whined, his words slurring together.

He was asleep before they made it through the front doors of the Castle.

Ginny hesitated as Harry moved towards the stairs. " I should really…" he voice wavered, and Harry used it as an opening.

"Stay, please." He asked her, unable to stop the intensity from tainting his words. "Just for a little while?"

A smile. "Alright."

"Kreature?" Harry called out quietly as they entered the apartment. With a loud _pop_ the elf stood before them.

"Kreature is here for Master," he said in his usual croak, bending lowly at the waist. He caught sight of the boy tucked in his arms. "Is Master Teddy not eating tonight, sir? Kreature has prepared a wonderful stew."

"I don't think so, Kreature. Teddy will just have to get a good breakfast tomorrow. Remember-he's headed to the Weasleys' tomorrow morning." He readjusted the boy in his hold, beginning to fill the affect of his weight. "But I'd love some. Gin?"

"Yes, please, Kreature." She answered the elf directly. "That sounds lovely."

"Make yourself at home," Harry told her as he pushed opened teddy's door with his foot, going in to carefully lay him down in bed, not even bother to change his muddied clothes. Using the same spell Ginny had earlier, he cleaned off his godson and tucked him in. He kissed him once on the forehead-a nightly ritual-and shut the door behind himself.

Ginny was curled up on his couch , her coat off and hanging behind her. On the small table in front of her sat two bowls of what Harry assumed were stew, and a butterbeer for each of them. As Harry sat, he saw that her shoes had also been discarded and thrown aside.

She looked entirely comfortable and seemed to fit beautifully into his home and into his life. He wondered if every day could be like this; the three of them out and enjoying themselves as a family and then just he and Ginny alone at night for a drink or a talk, and then he would scoop her up and carry her to bed…

It all seemed to good to be true. And it was-just a sweet fiction of his imagination.

Harry lowered himself to the couch, thanking Ginny as she handed him his drink. The action felt so familiar and domestic he had to resist the violent urge to lean down and press his lips to hers as though he'd been doing it for years.

"Where Kreature get off too?" Harry asked quickly, before the awkward silence could settle around them as it usually did.

"He said he was going to bed."

"Ah."

The both took long sips.

Because he couldn't help from watching her every move from the corner of his eye, Harry noticed when her pale skin began ton prickle and her body shiver.

"Cold?"

"I'm fine."

Ignoring her dismissal, Harry drew his wand and muttered out a quiet _Incindio_. Flames erupted inside the fireplace. "Thanks." she gifted him with a wide grin that made her eyes sparkle and shine.

He would do anything for that smile.

"No problem."

"He's gotten so big," Ginny commented after a moment, her tone wistful.

"Kreature?"

Her laugh rang in his ears. "No. He's the same as ever I'm sure-if not a little more polite. I meant Teddy. He reminds me so much of Tonks."

Harry felt the tug in his heart as he usually would when thinking of Teddy's parents, or Fred, or anyone else he had lost in his life.

"He's so smart, too," Harry told her, unable to stop the pride from leaking into his voice. "And Teddy has got such a solid head on his shoulders. He's more rational and knows more than half of my fifth years, it feel like."

"You're so good for him." She was closer to him now, her knee almost brushing up against his.

"He's good for me too."

Their eyes met again and Harry felt that exciting spark in his heart once more. He wanted to reach out, and touch her hand, just centimeters away. He wanted to feel her skin against his, he wanted to reach out and cup her cheeks in his palms, he wanted to slide his lips up her neck and around her jaw, to drown in the heat of her blush…

She looked away and He let out a gush of air, feeling as though it was the first breath he had taken in years.

"I've always been sort of jealous of him, you know," Ginny's words were light and teasing, but her tone was not. Harry shook his head and forced himself to think of Teddy. Teddy was a good topic. Teddy was a _safe_ topic.

"Hm?"

"For his skill as a Metamorphmagus." Her expression as she turned to him was on planed lightness. "I would kill to get rid of these freckles."

He wasn't sure when it happened, or how, but suddenly Harry was very closer to her. His hand was hovering in the air between them, their eyes locked once more. Slowly-oh so slowly-she leaned forward.

His thumb brushed across her skin.

"I love these freckles."

The words were a flowing breeze between them.

Then they were kissing and it was everything he had wanted and imagined and remembered. She was soft and perfect and her taste….

He wasn't sure who had groaned then.

She was pressing closer to him, the feel of her small, soft firm pressing into him made him react in way he hadn't in years.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling and tugging in the best way. His were sliding up her side and stroking her back.

She was on her knees, pushing him downwards and making the most tantalizing and tempting sounds from the back of her throat. Before he could realize what was happening, he was lying down, his back to the couch. Ginny's released his mouth and his He lungs filled with air that he hadn't noticed he needed yet. She straddled him, the weight of her body falling against his and creating the best kind of sensations. He moaned then, sitting straight up to kiss the span of neck that had been teasing and taunting him all day.

Harry wasn't sure when she started saying it, but somewhere along the line she had started muttering something over and over, without breathes in-between.

Harry pausing the suctioning action against her skin-noticing the faint pink mark he had left behind. He gently rubbed his thumb against the spot, hoping to sooth any pain he may have indivertibly caused. As he was watching the pink fade from her pale skin, he noticed what she was saying.

"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou…." it was whispered over and over, her eyes closed and head falling backwards.

Heat rushed through his veins and ran straight into his heart, making it pound heavily against his chest.

He stole her mouth once more, throwing everything he felt into the movement their lips. She pushed harder onto him as their teeth and tongue tangled together. He grasped hold of her rotating hips, pulling her as she thrust forward.

"Harry…"

He tugged gently on the ends of her hair. She gave a whimper into his lips.

"Harry."

Her hands were pushing the hem of her shirt up, her nails racking against his skin.

"Harry!"

In a moment they were separated, Ginny curled up on one side of the couch and Harry on the other.

They were practically panting, and Harry had to physically force his eyes away from her chest as it rose and fell rapidly.

He heard Teddy's voice calling him again. Harry scrambled off of the couch, his hand shocking and Ginny's eyes disconnecting from his.

"Stay." He croaked out. Harry barely recognized his own voice. He pointed at her, trying to illustrate just how serious he was. "Please. Just…wait."

He all but ran into his Godson's room to see Teddy sitting up in bed, his eyes still half closed.

"What's wrong, Teddy?"

His voice was slurred. "I didn't…I didn't say good-bye to…to Aunt Gin." He looked down. "And I'm not in my pajamas."

With a grin of exasperation he helped Teddy change his clothes and settle back into bed. "I'll tell Ginny you said bye." he whispered as Teddy began to fade back into slumber.

"Promise?"

Harry was backing out of the room. "Promise."

"M'kay."

When he was back out in the living room, he was alone.

Harry saw the small bowl of floo powder on his mantel place had been moved, and Ginny was nowhere in sight. He sighed lowly and moved to the fireplace to put on the flames.

"Good-bye, Ginny." He whispered as the room turned dark.


	10. Joyfulness with Ginny

**Chapter 10: Joyfulness with Ginny**

"Hawwy…"

Harry shifted the small form higher on his hip, grunting as the weight landed with uncomfortable pressure on his side. He pushed his legs faster down the hallway. His heart was pounding in his chest. Not fear-anticipation. Expectation. _Exasperation._

"Hawwy." The word was yawned his against his throat, Teddy's hot and gaseous breath wafting in his Godfather's face.

"Shh." Harry cooed gently, slowing down his speedy trot to pat Ted's head, letting the now dark brown locks slip between his fingers. "Shh. Just go back to sleep, Teds. Shh."

His pace picked back up slightly as Teddy's breath settled back into a steady rhythm. He turned the last corner down the quiet and dark neighborhood, his heels smacking loudly as they thumped on the shadowed pavement.

Harry felt horribly guilty, dragging poor Ted's out of bed at this hour of morning. He had done his best to be patient for his Godson-to wait until morning. But he couldn't. For nearly four hours he had paced back and forth in his chamber, pulling so roughly at his hair his scalp still stung, and thinking. _Thinking_. His mind was the worst part of this bloody mess. If he could have slept-have shut his mind down for just a second, just a moment, it might have been more bearable.

But as it was, Harry was driving himself mad.

"_I love you, I love you, I love you…"_

The scene played over and over through his mind in a never ending reel. Ginny, glorious above him, eyes burning into his, hips rocking, mouth opened in a moan, his name….

"_I love you, I love you, I love you…"_

Seven long years Harry had waited-no, not waited. To wait you must hope, and he hadn't done that. He had thought she was gone to him, out of reach. That she felt nothing for him anymore, and he was nothing to her.

And she loved him.

His days of sitting and pining over an old photograph were over. He was done being passive. He was Harry _fucking_ Potter. He was no coward. Not today. Not anymore.

His heart skipped a beat as he swung open a white gate, nearly running up a set of steps to stand before a large door. He repositioned Teddy once more before he took a deep breath.

_Now or never_, he told himself.

He raised his hand, curled a fist, and pounded heavily on the door.

No noise leaked from inside.

He did it once more.

Again, no response.

Harry knocked over and over, letting the pounding of his fist echo through the dark and quiet night. Teddy whimpered lowly at the noise, his small hand tangling tightly in the mop of Harry's hair. _Come on_, Harry thought, impatiently shifting from one foot to another. _Open the door. _His hand rose once more and it went to knock-but the door was roughly wrenched open.

"_WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU-!"_

Hermione's head of dark hair was as bushy as Harry had ever seen it, her eyes wide and bloodshot. It was clear she had just gotten out of bed. Harry noticed that the sleeves of her fuzz pink bathrobe had been pushed all the way up to her elbows, he hand clutching her wand so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

As she finally seemed to recognize Harry, her expression of anger seemed to fade slightly-although not nearly enough as Harry would have preferred. "_Harry?" _She asked, sounding both highly confused and irritated. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?"

"Herm-"

"I have children _asleep_ Harry! And so do you!" She flailed her arm in the direction the small sleeping Teddy.

"Hermi-"

"Tomorrow is my day _off_ Harry. Off. Do you know what that means? It means I shouldn't be getting up at four in the _Bloody_ morning! And furthermore-"

"Hermione."

She stopped yelling as her name left his lips, and took a moment to take full stock of her closest and longest friend. She noticed the deep circles under his eyes, the slight shaking of his hands, the way his normally restless hair seemed even more distraught than usual.

Her wand flew upwards into the dark night, her eyes narrowed. "What is it? Come in-Come in quickly."

Harry shuffled inside the door, ducking down and covering Teddy's head as he did so.

"Who is it, Harry?"

Harry said nothing, kneeling to gently set Teddy down on the couch. He pulled the throw from the back of the couch over his shoulders, laying a gentle kiss to his godson's forehead.

"Harry!" Hermione yanked on his sleeve, causing his body to jer backwards. "What is going on?"

"The kitchen, Hermione."

"Do I need to wake Ron? Are the kids safe?"

"The _kitchen_, Hermione."

With a huff, she lead Harry into the yellow and rose colored kitchen, directing him towards the dinning room table. As soon as they sat, the scuffle of small feet could be heard behind the cupboard.

"Mistress Weasley!" Petals enthusiastic voice chirped out. "Would you or Mr. Harry want tea? Petal has already started the kettle Miss."

"Hermione's exasperation was poorly disguised. "That's fine, Petals."

"A scone, Mistress Weasley? Petals has made very good scones."

"Petals?"

"Yes Mistress Weasly?"

"Its too early. Please….just the tea."

"Yes Mistress Weasly."

The pink creature scurried hurriedly from the room.

Hermione turned back to her guest, the stubborn look in her eyes peering all too familiarly at Harry.

"What's-"

"I kissed Ginny."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"I…"

"Or maybe she kissed me-it was difficult to tell. But we kissing and then we were snogging and she was touch-"

"_Harry._"

"Right, sorry." His cheeks flushed slight as his gazes dropped from hers. "But she….Then she…_Ginny_ told me she…_loved_ me."

There was a long pause, as Petals scurried back in and out of the room, delivering tea. They both paused.

"Oh."

Hermione paused, blinking slowly. Once, twice….

"What did you _do?"_

Harry sight, dropping his head heavily into his head. "I had to go check on Ted, and when I got back, she was gone."

"Did you….did you say anything?" Her voice had a softer, kinder edger to it then before. She reached out, taking her hand in his. Her grasp was warm, from her heated glass. "Did you tell her how you feel?"

He chanced a glanced up at her and let out a gust of air, annoyance and exhaustion coloring his tone. "Have I been that obvious?"

She gave him a familiar smile. "Only to me. Ron hasn't guessed anything….not that that means much. You've loved her a long time, Harry."

He nodded, although it wasn't a question.

"Why didn't you tell her?"

Harry stood then, turning away from her. He brought his hand up, tugging and pulling at his tangled ink locks. "Because…..because I was stunned. And shocked. And…..and….I don't know." He sighed and then turned to face her.

"What if she didn't mean it? What if she was imagining I was someone else? What if she ran away because she realized it was a mistake? What if she thinks I took advantage of her? What if she thinks I'm a prat? What if….?"

Hermione took a lone sip of tea.

"Harry? Can I tell you something."

Stepping closure to her, Harry nodded.

"I'll need to you lock the door on you're way out." With that, she stood, collected both their teacups, placed them in the sink, and walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

Harry stood for a long minute, feeling dizzy. He made sure to check the lock twice, as he pulled the Weasly's front door behind him.

"One moment!"

Harry shifted nervously from one foot to another, holding a crinkled piece of paper in his hand. He pulled the sheet out, carefully examining it, re-reading the lines as though he hadn't already.

_You are Invited_

_To Ginevra Weasley's House Warming Celebration_

_October 4__th_

_532 Charlatan ct_

_London_

He had had to pop in his home and search for an hour to find the invitation from nearly three years ago, but he finally he did, under a pile of old clothes in his bottom drawer.

He glanced at the number above the door.

532.

He took a large breath. He raised his hand to knock once more, when the door in front of him swung open.

Her eyes were red and bulging, as though she had spent a long, sleepless night in tears. Her hair was frizzy and tangled. Her slim, tempting form was encased in a old and ratted faded pink bath robe.

She had never looked more beautiful.

"Ginny."

He winced as the door slammed shut, inches from his hopeful expression.

He knocked again. "Ginny?" The call seemed desperate-pleading. "Can you….can you let me in? Can we talk?"

Nothing.

With a heavy sigh, he backed up until his back hit the wall and sat down, lowing himself to the ground.

_So much for that pla-_

Harry jumped up, as the door opened again.

Her eyes were still red, but her hair was brushed and she wore jeans and a shirt, instead of a robe.

"Hi…Hi Harry. I didn't….expect you."

He swallowed. "Me either. Can I….come in?"

She stepped to the side.

Ginny's apartment was simple and Spartan-the walls a bland white, and the couch a colorless cream. Along the walls, however, were Quidditch posters, pictures of family and friends, and even diplomas and awards from work. Her couch took up most of the room in the den-the leather a broken and soft maroon. She-like most wizards Harry knew-didn't own a telly, but there was a radio off in the corner. Harry could see the kitchen across from him, and door to his left. The space seemed relatively modern-a bit like Harry's old flat, to be honest.

He turned as the sound of a bolt locked clicked behind him.

Ginny stood not four feet from him, arms cross, eyes down towards the floor.

Harry took a deep breath.

"Ginny…."

She looked up suddenly, a smile plastering her face. "Thirsty? I'm not sure what I have here, but let me look." she walked past him, into the kitchen.

Harry felt the frown etch across his face. He didn't like that smile-it was too big, too wide. It didn't crinkle her eyes. That wasn't a _Ginny_ smile.

"Ginny…I'm not…"

"I don't know if I have any milk. Do you take milk in your tea?"

He took a step closer to her, ignoring the shaking in his legs and his chapped throat. "Ginny. Last night, I ne-"

He stopped, interrupted by the crash of a tea cup falling against her counter. Her voice was cold and lifeless, as she spoke. "It was a mistake. I know that." She turned quickly, eyes flashing as she glared at him. "If that's all you came down here for, you shouldn't have bothered."

Harry stared, dumbfounded. Absent mindedly his left hand moved up to rest against the dull ache in his chest. "You think it was a mistake?"

He watched with almost confused agony as she closed her eyes and took a deep, lingering breath. "I'm sorry." Her voice had lost its edge-had lost everything. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I would never put you or Teds in that position. " Her eyes opened, and her stumbled as he saw them brimmed with tear. _Ginny _was _crying. _Her expression suddenly hardened. "But I can't change the way I feel, Harry. I shouldn't have said it, but I can't change it either. I'm not some school girl with a crush anymore and I don't….I can't help…." She stopped, her words dying in her throat.

He stared at her. Then he took a step. And another. And another, until he was pressed against her, until he could feel the outline of her body pressed into him and could feel her breath-too quick, too shallow-against his neck. Slowly, so slowly, he moved his hand upward. Their eyes were locked, a dark chocolate swirling with emerald. He laid his hand upon her face, revering in the smooth skin.

"I love these freckles." He annunciated clearly, with a tone firm and direct, but not unaffectionate.

"And I love you.'

Silence enveloped him.

Ginny spoke, her words coming out mangled and twisted. "Harry…I don't…..you don't…."

Harry took a deep breath and began again. "I've loved you since I was sixteen years old, and you knocked Zacharias Smith off the announcing booth after a quidditch match. I've loved you for longer than I can remember loving anyone. I love you so much my heart is-mmmff!"

Ginny's mouth was latched firmly to his, her arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him down to her level. Without thinking about it, without even considering the consequences, he bent down, grabbing her swiftly underneath the ass to hold her up, their hips touching.

"Harry…." Ginny let out a sigh as their lips disconnected. Harry found the skin of her neck quite distracting.

"Hmm?"

"Bedroom."

Harry paused, stepping back to look her in the eye. "Are-"

She kissed him again, full of fire and stars and quidditch and butterbeer and just….._Ginny._

"If you're…."she panted as they broke apart. "About to ask me….if I'm sure…."

Another kiss.

"I will personally toss you out of my flat like it's a de-Gnoming."

Harry laughed against her throat. "Yes, Headmistress."

Ginny pulled herself from his arms, sliding down his form in a way Harry thought was not quite so helpful, and took his hand. With a fierce look she tugged him out of the kitchen, past the living room, and into a bedroom.

Harry didn't notice much about this room accept the fact that it did, indeed, have a bed. They were kissing again, slowly stepping towards the bed-Ginny moving backwards. As Harry was re-discovering how teasing the skin behind her ear made her blush and groan Ginny suddenly pulled away from him, flopping down on the unmade mattress below her.

She grinned at him, her eyes as seductive as the movement of her fingers against the tangled sheet.

"Join me," she whispered.

Harry swallowed, lifting his shirt quickly over his head. His lips touched the base of her throat, reveling in the glorious feeling of his body pressed against his. He shuddered as her hands generously explored the lines and curves of his back.

She pulled his head down and they kissed again, lips, tongues, souls mingling. "Be with me," She whispered as they broke apart.

Harry groaned, his mouth gliding across the smooth ivory of her shoulder.

"I love you," his voice was a whisper as he lost himself, drowning in her. Drowning in Ginny.

* * *

A small girl, her eyes a sparking blue and her hair a fair blonde pulled into two pigtails, giggled as she watched her friend, Coraline, holding a goblet in front of her.

"Come on, Cora, " the pig tailed Katlyn encouraged. "My parents drink it all the time-and they're just fine. You don't want the second and third years to think you're a child, do you?" Katlyn huffed with impatience at Coraline's continued hesitation. She looked around at the three other girls in the circle, all wearing expression of curiosity and anxiety. "Come on! Just a sip won't kill you! The rest of us will go right after, promise!"

With a deep, shuttering sigh, Coraline leaned forward and look a small sip of the amber liquid. As the girl around her giggled and gasped, Coraline's eyes rolled back into her head, her body suddenly falling and slumping to the ground.

There was a beat of silence.

And then the entire Slytherin tower was awoken to the sound of wail, that Coraline Carthin was dead.


End file.
